This Thing Between Us
by Ryu Niiyama
Summary: Lydia of Whiterun dreamed of greatness, adventure and service to a worthy master. Instead she was given to an Altmer/Redguard halfbreed, whom the gods were cruel enough to bless as Dragonborn. Yet there is something about this reluctant hero that will change how one Nord housecarl views herself and the world. Something stronger than prejudice or fear.
1. A Simple Thing

A Simple Thing

By: Ryu Niiyama

Disclaimer: Not mine and I'm really broke anyway.

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The courier dashes off into the milling crowd and Lydia reads the short, succinct notice three times before tucking it into her belt pouch.

She is coming home.

The thought buoys Lydia of Whiterun and she steadfastly ignores reality. She conveniently forgets that her Thane would only stay in Whiterun long enough to pick up supplies and prepare to travel to Falkreath Hold. She ignores that she had so shamed herself as a housecarl that her Thane had quietly cast her aside.

It has been months since she last saw her Thane, and even then it was from the battlefield as she watched the manmeri rush to the heart of the Stormcloak assault on Whiterun. Her Thane's body was shrouded in gleaming quicksilver and steel as she dealt swift and certain death to Ulfric the Kingkiller's army. Even while raining down arrows in support, Lydia couldn't contain the thrill that skittered down her spine every time her Thane used her Thu'um to waylay the usurper army. Shouts that spewed fire and ice, words that called down lighting and conjured phantoms as the Stormcloak's screams of terror and death filled the air. She had to fight to focus as fear and concern clogged her throat, watching her Thane cleave Stormcloaks in half with her great elven ebony blade and wading further into the fray. The dragonborn only drew her ebony scimitar and shield when the Stormcloaks began raining down arrows; willing to skewer their own in the hopes of killing the heroine that was thinning their numbers. Lydia had never shot with such speed and accuracy in her life; each shot a desperate attempt to give her Thane breathing room and to further her advantage.

In a gleaming helmet that hid her face, with a flowing crimson cape emblazoned with the Imperial Dragon, her Thane decimated her foes. She stood tall as a walking, killing symbol of the Empire judging the Stormcloaks and finding them lacking with the power of the Thu'um. If Nadira had been a Nord, she would have thought the woman to be a Hero in disguise descended from Soverngarde. If the housecarl was honest with herself, she truly thought that despite her Thane's Altmer and Redguard blood. Hours later when the battle had been won, Lydia only caught the barest glimpse of blood-soaked yet still shining armor as Legate Rikke and other soldiers clasped their heroine on the back and cheered her might in battle.

She had not gotten the chance to congratulate or attend to her Thane. The manmeri had assisted with some of the cleanup effort along with a contingent of Imperial soldiers, yet she slept in Jorvaskarr, celebrating with her fellow Companions. Lydia knew that her Thane left the very next morning because she stayed up all night praying to Talos in her heart that the Hero of Whiterun would return to Breezehome. When she heard from her window in the predawn light that the dragonborn had left Whiterun, Lydia had cried bitter tears before falling into a fitful, dreamless sleep.

This, she knows is her last chance. Her last chance to prove that she is not full of hate like Ufric and his ilk; her last chance to prove that she serves because she wants to…needs to serve the woman that so thoroughly altered her views of the world. This is her last chance to show Nadira Gaeorin of Chorrol that she is a woman of honor and that her life belongs Nadira and Nadira alone.

If only the dragonborn will give her a second chance; she will lay down her life to keep her and all that she holds dear safe. With sword and shield ever at the ready to destroy her foes, she would serve her Thane until the end of her days. If Talos would show her mercy, her Thane would never know a more loyal housecarl as long as she drew breath. Not even Rayya would compare.

Lydia completes her morning training, for once electing to not train herself into an exhausted stupor so that she could complete the rest of her chores as quickly as possible. Based upon her Thane's letter, she would be in Whiterun by nightfall. The proof of her remorse would be shown tonight; she would attend to her Thane properly and prove her worth.

Lydia kept Breezehome spotless, yet the raven haired housecarl obsessively cleaned every inch of the modest house in preparation for her Thane's arrival. Fresh wood was chopped and she picked up foodstuffs from the market so that she could prepare a proper meal for her thane. The housecarl hunted the doe she would use for the venison stew herself and bartered for fresh milk and crushed Ice Wraith teeth from Farengar. She baked the bread and the apple dumplings herself, hoping the sweet treats were still a favorite of the quiet-spoken manmeri whom she was bound to. She polished her customary steel armor until it gleamed and swept the floors three times in nervous agitation. All would be perfect for her Thane's return…it had to be.

With shaky steps, the housecarl ascended to her bedroom opened the heavy chest at the foot of her bed. Carefully, reverently she removed the gleaming ebony and dragonbone armor and placed it upon her bed. She had never worn the armor and yet she knew without a doubt that not only would it fit her perfectly, but it would be the most magnificent armor she had ever worn. She knew this because of the symbol that graced the underside of pauldrons; small and only found with a bare hand. The symbol was a combination of the crest of the Hero of Kvatch and House of Baurus; the linage Nadira Gaeorin of Chorrol had descended from. The housecarl closed her eyes and brushed her fingers over that symbol now, her heart breaking all over again.

" _You've made it abundantly clear that you have no desire to be my housecarl, Lydia of Whiterun and I have foolishly tried to redeem whatever slight I've committed against you to no avail. Yet I will not allow you in your disdain for me to be so reckless as to endanger others! Your arrogance almost got those merchants killed! You wish to be free of me? So be it! Return to Whiterun. Breezehome is yours to do with as you please. I shall only visit there when in Whiterun so that the Jarl does not find out that I've dismissed you from my service." Nadira strode to her horse and pulled out her pack. Quickly, the manmeri removed her purse and took out five thousand septims and wrote a letter of credit. "Here. If you manage to spend all of this give this letter of credit to your debtors. I will pay them on your behalf. Now go."_

 _The Nord refused at first, not out of loyalty but instead out of indignation that she was being dismissed by a halfbreed elf. Yet as she tried to stare down her furious Thane she watched a change come over her unlike anything she had ever seen. The woman merely stood to her full height but it was as if her presence grew as well. The kindness of her body language vanished and Lydia felt as if she were facing down a dragon alone. A light hum began to rumble from the manmeri and it took a moment for Lydia to realize it was a growl, not much different save in pitch from the one she could emit as a wolf. Yet this low sound carried the Thu'um and Lydia could feel the land respond to it. The clouds began to darken and the very earth began to tremble. She could hear the horses far behind them beginning to shuffle nervously, confused by the change in atmosphere. There was a killing intent, darker and more focused than anything Lydia had ever experienced in battle coming from this mixed blood and the housecarl felt her own warrior's blood run cold as ice. It only took a moment, but Lydia flinched and her knees buckled, forcing her to the ground. In an instant the sky began to clear and the ominous sound ceased as the dragonborn turned away. Gaping like a beached horker, the Nord scrambled shakily to her feet in an attempt to save face._

 _At first Lydia had been too angry, too arrogant and she'd stomped away from her disgusted Thane and mounted her horse and headed back to Whiterun. Yet the journey from Shor's Stone to Whiterun gave Lydia time to think, time to reflect. Nadira had always been kind if not somewhat quiet and she always split what she had and made sure that Lydia's supplies were as well stocked as her own. The manmeri never let her armor become worn and after the first time Lydia expressed disgust at having a filthy manmeri repair her armor the dragonborn quietly paid the local smith to conduct any required repairs. Even though she was not only a master smith, she descended from ebony and quicksilver smiths on each sides of heritage._

 _Lydia never slept in a stable or on the floor, always having her own inn room whenever they visited a town; fates that were common for many housecarls that served unworthy, uncaring masters. Masters that didn't value a life lain down for their own. Her Thane had never once treated her like a servant, so much so that in those early days many mistook Lydia for the master and the tall manmeri who always kept her face covered for the servant. As she and her horse plodded every further away from her true purpose she remembered actions and words that illuminated her thane's cleverness and wit, her kind and honorable heart…things that Lydia herself had spat upon because the dragonborn had not been born a Nord. By the time she had reached Whiterun the housecarl had been miserable, yet her pride prevented her from seeking her Thane out and begging for forgiveness. Two weeks after her return to Whiterun a knock at her door brought even her formidable pride to its knees._

 _Rayya of Falkreath, her Thane's first housecarl and the guardian of the manor she called home, stood in the entrance of Breezehome with disdain in her eyes. Common ancestry and loss had made Rayya and Nadira like sisters and even though the Skryim born Redguard did not share her journeys, she was fiercely protective of her Thane. Protective in a way that Lydia should have been, but because her Thane's skin was not pale nor her ears as round as her kinsmen she had not been. "You are wholly unworthy of this but Ansei Nadira finished this weeks ago. She had intended to give it to you after you both returned from Shor's Stone." Rayya had said nothing more, merely glaring until Lydia took the heavy package. Task complete, the Skyrim born Redguard left without another word._

 _Lydia opened the package and fell backwards to the floor with shock. Within lay the finest armor she had ever seen; a perfect merger of ebony, quicksilver and dragonbone. Knowing Lydia's disdain for helms, a hood of ebony and quicksilver link lay on top of an enchanted dragonbone and ebony shield. The finest piece within the gift had been the blade. Like the armor and shield, it was a merger of dragonbone and ebony, yet despite the bone that made up the majority of its composition, the blade was perfectly balanced. Lydia had treated her Thane like she didn't deserve to breathe and in return Nadira had honored her as a warrior and gifted her weapons and armor worth a High King's ransom. That night Lydia prayed to Talos; she begged him to forgive her dishonor of herself and her Thane and she swore her life to her anew._

Yet it had been harder than she thought it would be to keep her promise to Talos. The dragonborn was true to her word and when her travels brought her to Whiterun, she mostly communed with the Companions. The manmeri's self imposed exile allowed her to swiftly move up the ranks within the honored guild and it was said she had been made a member of the Circle. Lydia grit her teeth at the thought or rather at one member of the Circle in particular: Aela the Huntress.

Lydia and Aela had been rivals growing up and much of that rivalry bled into their adult years. Aela thought that as the niece of the Jarl, Lydia's position as housecarl was given to her rather than earned. Lydia had always thought that Aela was an arrogant bitch…a thought confirmed when she caught a young and reckless Aela transforming when hunting by moonlight once. Lydia kept the werewolf's secret but the knowledge of it only worsened their rivalry. Now she stands too close to Nadira and spends too much time walking through the streets of the Plains District bragging about her hunts in an obvious attempt to impress her Thane. If the huntress always drew her Thane to the mead hall of the Companions Lydia would never get her chance to atone. Yet she could not, would not allow anyone, not even Aela to waylay her plans. Not when she owed her Thane so much, not when she could still honor her position and right as housecarl. Lydia closed her slate grey eyes and offered a brief prayer to Talos before she strapped the dragonbone sword to her hip. The blade was the only thing from her Thane that she allowed herself to use regularly, believing the blade and its matching shield should become an extension of herself; so that if and when she was called to serve she would be able to do so effortlessly.

Tonight she hoped that it would act as a symbol of her devotion and an acceptance and acknowledgement of her Thane's generous gift. She hoped that it would serve as her entreaty to begin anew. With a resolute nod, Lydia began preparing her Thane's meal, the repetitive motions of chopping the vegetables soothing her frayed nerves. The housecarl flitted about the kitchen like a hummingbird, determined to present a feast worthy of the halls of Dragonsreach. Satisfied that everything was suitably prepared, Lydia perused the bookshelves of her Thane's study and chose a copy of _Sword-Wisdom of Saikhalar_ to read. She had taken to reading as much as she could about both Redguard and Altmer histories, to help her understand the woman she was pledged to serve.

Pleased with her choice, the housecarl settled into a chair in front of the hearth and began to read, awaiting her Thane's return. At the first scrape of the key in the lock, Lydia sprang to her feet, almost knocking her now forgotten book into the fire. Nervously, she straightened her hair and stood to her full height. The door swung open smoothly and an armored and cloaked figure stepped into the foyer. Lydia paused for a moment assessing the newcomer. The horned, veiled helm of dragonbone and ebony left only weary hazel eyes in plain view and for a moment the two warriors stared at each other before Lydia moved forward.

"Welcome home, Thane." Lydia greeted softly even as she reached out to remove her Thane's helmet. She tried not to flinch as her Thane smoothly turned and began undoing her chin straps, the move so casually done that it almost obscured the rejection it was intended to be. Lydia would not be deterred however, and she moved to grasp her Thane's pack as the manmeri placed her helmet upon the nearby corner table.

"I have it Lydia, thank you." Lydia nodded sullenly and moved to close the still ajar door, pausing as she noticed a cloaked figure moving from Breezehome towards the town gates. The figure was obviously female, but there was something ominous and disconcerting about her. It bothered Lydia to know that her Thane traveled with another, even though that meant someone would watch over the manmeri in her place. The woman was obviously not a housecarl and the thought that had so shamed herself that mercenaries were a more welcome companion than a sworn protector sat heavy in her heart.

Lydia shook her head to clear her thoughts. It didn't matter who the hooded woman was, Lydia would reclaim her rightful place. Closing and locking the door behind her she moved to follow her Thane, who was now trudging up the stairs to her room. Lydia moved quickly to prevent the dragonborn from having the chance to close the door in her face, yet she kept her face neutral and her movements even to disguise her rushed ploy.

Nadira moved to the mannequin in the corner of her bedroom and placed her helm upon it. Sighing softly, she pulled the ebonymail hood back and tugged the cloth mask that hid her face from the world when her helm was removed. Lydia had once scoffed at her Thane's tendency to keep her face hidden; deeming her untrustworthy or hideous and utterly unlike the shining Nord heroine she should have been. Lydia flushes with shame at her thoughts before stepping further into the room. The dragonborn turns just as the housecarl reaches for the straps of her chestplate and the two almost bump noses.

Lydia flushes hotly, but maintains eye contact with her Thane. The manmeri woman is two inches taller than her six foot frame but Lydia will not balk under her Thane's scrutiny. Talos above, How could she have ever thought this woman to be anything but beautiful? Moving carefully, Lydia reaches once again for the side straps, holding her Thane's gaze. This woman has shouted down mountains and has made gods bend to her will but in this, Lydia will not be denied. They continue their stalemate for several minutes before Nadira's natural humor cracks her stony glare and she rolls eyes the color of burnished amber. Sighing sweet breath softly, the manmeri raises her arms to allow Lydia better access.

Nodding in acknowledgement of her Thane's consent, Lydia swiftly and carefully removes the exquisite yet heavy armor. Nadira begins to hum absently as she works and Lydia flushes again at the dulcet tones. Nadira didn't speak much when traveling, yet instead she filled the air with song. Sheepishly her Thane once explained that it was part of her Redguard heritage. As a seafaring and often nomadic people, Redguards often sang to pass the time. Even those bound to land seemed to inherit the love of song. Lydia swiftly moved the heavy armor to the mannequin, leaving the manmeri clad in her tunic and leggings. Brushing her fingers along the inside of the armor, the Nord was shocked to not find a bear pelt lining. Neither sides of her heritage left the manmeri equipped to deal with the sometimes bitter cold of the Skyrim climate and she wondered briefly if her Thane's travels had been in more temperate areas recently. By the time Lydia was handing her Thane a lighter pair of boots, she was humming counterpoint to her Thane. Their fingers brushed as her Thane took the offered footwear and it was all Lydia could do to stay in tune.

Nadira abruptly trailed off her song and moved to sit on the bed to step into the boots. Undeterred by the abrupt loss of her singing partner, Lydia maintained her humming, knowing how this particular melody soothed her Thane. It did not matter how many times her Thane retreated; Lydia would follow her diligently until she reclaimed her rightful place. Smoothly, Lydia knelt down and assisted her Thane, marveling at feet that were quite delicate despite their size. It seemed strange that she had once seen the manmeri kick a man off a fort parapet with such dainty feet. Sighing softly Nadira shook out her raven mane and reached beneath her tunic to remove the amulet that normally hung between her breasts. Lydia finished with the second boot and stood just as the amulet was brought into view.

It took everything that the housecarl had to keep her face calm and devoid of the unexpected yet rolling rage that consumed her at the sight. _Her_ Thane was not wearing her customary amulet of Talos that had been gifted to her from the Greybeards. Instead it was an amulet of Mara that hung around her neck. Nadira was an outsider and likely wore the amulet for the enchantment it bore…yet what if she didn't? What if she was wearing it _for_ someone? Just who in Talos' name _was_ that hooded woman? Yet Lydia didn't have the right to ask…didn't have the right to challenge anything. Yet, the thought that she was so far on the outskirts of the woman whose life she was pledged to protect called forth such fury, that for a moment she felt as if she could spew fire like the woman before her.

Lydia watched with feigned calm as her Thane placed the amulet in the nearby strong box, before reaching into her tunic for her customary one. "Thane, let me." The Nord moved forward, and gently grasped the amulet before Nadira could protest and she moved behind her to lift her hair and return the sacred necklace to its rightful place. Lydia bit the inside of her cheek as she caught the scent of her Thane's hair and skin. Nadira was very particular about cleanliness and bathed more than any warrior or woman Lydia had ever met. She smelled of sandalwood and roses, while her hair smelled of honeysuckle and lavender. The combined scents along with the oily, sooty, metallic tang common to a person that worked both in a forge and often wore heavy armor soothed Lydia's fraying nerves. She smirked as she smelled the scent of a clean puppy as well. Lydia was well aware of her Thane's werewolf blood, but she didn't smell strongly of wet dog the way the wolf twins did. Even Aela's scent was stronger. She wondered if it had something to do with the control Nadira had over her wolf form. The few times she had seen her Thane take to the wolf she had been brutal yet calculating in battle yet playful and mischievous outside of it…not much different from her manmeri form.

Nadira stiffened and moved away, mumbling out her thanks, causing Lydia to frown. Her Thane was not verbose but she was never nervous around others. It was another thing for the housecarl to atone for then. "Come, Thane. I've prepared a meal for you. Surely you must be famished after such long travels?" Nadira chuckled softly at the somewhat brash request, the words polite yet unapologetic and straightforward.

Much like Lydia herself.

"Very well, Serana was in a hurry to get here and we have been marching for ten hours straight. Just let me head to the Bannered Mare to get a tankard of milk." Lydia placed a hand upon her Thane's shoulder to prevent her from moving away. "Already done Thane, Farengar sold me some ice wraith teeth so you will find your milk chilled as you like it."

The manmeri hummed in approval softly and Lydia blinked as the sound skittered pleasantly down her spine. She led the way for her Thane and waited until the other woman took her seat before she seated herself. Lydia's father had often spoke of the merits of food and the bonds it could bring; and after seeing her Thane's face light up after she ate her first spoonful of stew she had to agree. The tension between them was gone as Lydia filled the silence with updates on life in Whiterun. She spoke like a warrior, unable to weave grand tales, yet she had been able to wrangle a laugh or two out of her Thane much to her own delight.

As she listened to the dragonborn laugh, full-bodied and free, she knew that she would do anything to protect the joy of a woman that had the weight of the world thrust upon her shoulders. All too soon dinner was done and the dishes cleared away and all Lydia could feel was nervousness. Would her Thane leave in the morning...would she be left behind once more? One pleasant evening wasn't enough to win back her Thane's trust she knew. Yet surely it was enough to show that she cared? That in time she could be worthy of trust once again? Would she have to watch her Thane walk away from her into the protectorate of this "Serana" character?

"Lydia, thank you for dinner. It was delicious. I have to meet with Adrianne over a trade agreement but I should be up in time to see if you have put that blade to good use." Lydia barked out a laugh as she watched her Thane climb the stairs to her room, the casual statement buoying her heart. It would seem small to anyone else but Lydia of Whiterun knew firsthand what it was to lose the trust of the retreating woman. Trust was such a simple thing, when given it could be the motivation that turned the tide of a battle yet when broken it was so difficult to mend and its scars never faded. Still, she would take joy in small victories won and press ever forward.

The next morning found Lydia staggering backwards as she absorbed another blow from her Thane's greatsword. The dragonbone shield held mightily, but that didn't stop the painful shock that reverberated down her arm. _'How can she move so quickly and maintain this level of power in every strike?'_ The raven haired housecarl was beginning to wonder if her Thane also descended from Orismer blood when another blow drove her to one knee. Unwilling to be out done, Lydia thrust her shield out and up before pivoting on her grounded knee to sweep her Thane. The manmeri leapt backwards in time, but the nearly simultaneous attack left her unbalanced as she landed.

With a war cry loud enough to rival her Thane's thu'um Lydia surged forward, rushing her unbalanced opponent. The housecarl brought her sword down and her Thane quickly brought her greatsword pommel upwards so that her arms deflected and opened the arc of the attack. Lydia yelped as her Thane swung the sword upward even as she brought a booted foot to the Housecarl's raised shield. The sudden weight of her Thane kicking off from her shield drove Lydia to the ground even as the tip of the greatsword narrowly missed her face and sent her blade flying.

Gasping wildly Lydia could only stare as the taller woman returned the thin, powerful blade to its sheath and moved to retrieve the fallen Dragonbone blade. _'Incredible. If this had been a real fight she could have sliced my arm clean from my shoulder.'_ The housecarl moved and flexed her fingers to make sure she had endured no lasting damage from disarming block and was pleased to note that the appendage felt fine. She looked up as her Thane returned to her and held out a hand in assistance. Lydia grasped the dragonborn's forearm in a warrior's greeting and she didn't fail to notice the way her Thane's eyes widened at the gesture as she was hauled to her feet. She did try her best to ignore the powerful bunch and flex of her Thane's muscles. If only to tame the blush she could feel creeping up her neck. Years of sword training and smithy work along with her mixed blood had left Nadira with a physique that was strapping yet quick and for one moment Lydia felt a little lightheaded from the easy display of strength.

"Good match, Thane. Although I think I at least made you a little nervous."

The dragonborn's eyes danced in amusement and a silken bark of laughter filled the air as Nadia tightened her grip in agreement. "That you did. But you made the mistake of assuming that a greatsword means I can't fight close range. It _is_ harder and poses more risk to me, yet at the same time almost every attack I can make at that range is fatal due to the size and heft of my blade." Lydia hummed in agreement thinking about how that final kick was the only thing that saved her life and she smiled widely in awe of the soft-spoken manmeri's skill. Despite her words, Lydia was certain she had never met a warrior that handled a large blade with such an easy blend of strength and dexterity and she wondered briefly who taught her Thane such form. Accepting her blade back and allowing the taller woman to step away, Lydia inspected her blade which showed no worse for wear before sheathing it smoothly. The dragonborn moved to grab two nearby water-skins and handed one to the Nord, who guzzled from it greedily. Lydia hummed softly in consternation as her Thane merely dotted her brow with the cool liquid, deigning to keep her mask firmly in place.

"Are you heading out to attend to business now, Thane?" Though Nadira was not obligated to answer, Lydia was pleased when she nodded in agreement. The raven haired Nord bowed to her Thane in honor of her station and in thanks for the morning training and she swallowed a smile as she noticed that once again she had taken the other woman by surprise. "Safe journey to you, Thane. I shall await your return." Nodding somewhat awkwardly, no doubt thrown by what to her would seem to be a complete change in her housecarl's demeanor, the Dragonborn headed to Warmaiden's. Lydia smiled at her Thane's reaction as she turned away, pleased that she was making strides in altering the dragonborn's view of her.

So two weeks passed if not comfortably then amicably between them. Every morning they sparred and though Lydia consistently lost, she took pride in knowing that she at least presented a much needed challenge to her Thane. During the day, the dragonborn attended to her duties to the Companions or completed some request of the Jarl's or of some member of the community. As Lydia walked through the city, attending to her own duties she noticed that the greetings and well wishes from the townsfolk now often included complements to her Thane. She tried to be gracious, but she couldn't help the surge of pride as others spoke of her Thane's kindness and skill or of her cleverness and good humor. Although her Thane had already hard won the admiration of the people of Whiterun hold, few had mentioned the dragonborn directly to her previously.

Realizing that the steady routine between them had presented an image of solidarity, and even if there were those that would deride Nadira for her blood, there were more that would deride Lydia for her lack of loyalty. Acknowledging the dichotomy of her own people made her heart sink in dismay...no wonder Nadira had put her aside so thoroughly. Such duplicitous behavior was beneath a woman that held truth and loyalty in such high regard. At night they often read in silence or her Thane had begun to speak of some of her adventures as they ate dinner. She still didn't speak much of this "Serana", but Lydia was certain that the mysterious woman was the one whom the dragonborn had purchased Mara's token for. Lydia tried not to think about how unsettled the thought of her Thane courting a woman made her feel.

Still, Lydia knew that all good things must come to an end and she couldn't fight the despair that clutched her heart as her Thane announced that she would be departing in the morning. "I will need to head back to Falkreath to broker trade for more lumber. I want to add to the manor. I also have business to attend to in Markath. I've gotten a few leads on Alduin's next attack." Lydia nodded sullenly, knowing that her Thane could be gone for several months with another guarding her life. This was her last chance. If she let her Thane walk away from her now, nothing would change. She was not a revered sister like Rayya, she did not hold her Thane's heart like Serana, but she would not be left behind again…she couldn't bear it. "Please Thane…allow me to travel with you. You should not travel the road alone." She staunchly ignored that her Thane _wasn't_ alone when she traveled; needing any opening she could find to present her entreaty.

One of Nadira's thick eyebrows arched in a way that was distinctly Altmeri, but Lydia would not be cowed under the piercing, assessing gaze. Finally after several long moments the dragonborn shrugged and let out a soft chuckle. "Very well. However make no mistake Lydia…if you cannot follow then I have no use for you." The stark reminder of her failure made the Nord flush in shame, but she would not break her Thane's gaze. "I am your sword and your shield my Thane."

"We leave at dawn." Lydia waited until she heard her Thane's bedroom door click closed before she let the tears flow freely down her face. She would not squander this chance…she bet her life upon it.

The next morning Lydia adjusted her armor, almost purring at the fit, despite the fact that the armor had been crafted several months ago. Truly, Zenithar himself granted her Thane her skill at the forge. She wondered briefly if the world had been kinder would Nadira have spent her days as a forgemistress rather than a wandering heroine. Then again if she had followed her family's craft Lydia likely never would have met the manmeri. Lydia was selfish enough to know that now she would have been poorer in spirit had she not met her reluctant Thane. Slate grey eyes passed over her Thane's armored form and she frowned as she watched the taller woman cover her face with her mask once more.

"Thane, why do you cover your face? There is no Redguard custom that requires it to my knowledge." Lydia knew she was likely overstepping her bounds, but she wanted her Thane to know that she saw her, truly saw her and took an interest in her culture. Nadira chuckled and pulled the mask back down, turning to face her housecarl fully. Lydia bit her tongue to control the gasp that threatened to escape as her Thane's eyes met her own. How had she been able to ignore and disdain such beauty before? Surely hatred is the greatest of madness if it can warp one's perceptions so thoroughly.

"Lydia, I'll answer your question with one of my own: what do you see when you look at me?"

Lydia flushed hotly, wondering if her assessment of her Thane's beauty had been so easily noticed and she spent several moments gaping like a fish before summoning her wits. "I see a woman, Thane. Kind, and thoughtful and noble and strong…and beautiful." It was Nadira's turn to blush, her dusky golden skin doing nothing to hide her reaction. "Auri-El, you _have_ changed." Lydia frowned softly at the whispered response but held her Thane's gaze easily. With a sigh, the dragonborn adjusted the abandoned mask now hanging below her chin and Lydia relaxed, recognizing the movement for the nervous gesture that it was.

"Thank you, Lydia but honestly, when you look at me what do you see? What did you see when you first met me?"

Lydia wanted to turn away in shame but she was a warrior and would not let cowardice dictate her actions… anymore. "I…I don't understand…" Nadira's expression shifted to one of pity and yet there was a defiant fire in her eyes as well. How does one explain hatred and prejudice to one that had once been mired so deeply in it? Those that hate become defensive and grasp ever tightly to their delusion…sometimes violently so, that it was likely easier to explain color to a person that had been born blind. Yet hatred was so much more than petty words and thoughts; it was backed with action… cruel and often sanctioned action. As a Nord Lydia knew she couldn't truly comprehend…how could she when not even a year ago she would have echoed the same words of hatred mindlessly with her kinsmen? Yet she wanted to…she desperately wanted to understand, to amend and start over…yet a part of her felt unworthy of the effort. Nadira sighed softly, breaking the self-castigating decent into madness that Lydia was working herself into.

"Lydia, the entire reason we went our separate ways was because I wasn't Nord enough to be dragonborn in your eyes. You saw a filthy Mer and Altmeri no less taking the mantel of one of the most celebrated and revered Nord heroes. You knew nothing about me except what I looked like and that was enough for your revulsion." Nadira didn't say the words cruelly; in fact her tone was as calm as ever yet Lydia couldn't bank the tears that the eviscerating words caused. She was disgusted at her own weakness…after all her Thane spoke the truth. How could she be the one to cry when she was the one that had shamed herself and hurt her Thane? Nadira's eyebrows twitched together in concern, yet she continued on, never breaking eye contact. "And that is just what you…a relatively nonviolent Nord thought of me. What do you think happens when I meet violent Nords? And do you think that hatred is only sated with words or blood?"

Lydia paled and then grew sick with anger. "What? Someone…someone…You …how?" The fury that was beginning to clog her throat abated slightly as her Thane raised her hands in a placating gesture. "I CAN defend myself, but yes I have met more than a few men that felt that my being of Mer blood meant that I could be used to vent their…frustrations." The dragonborn then gave a rather feral smile, telling Lydia easily what had happened to her would-be attackers. Still the knowledge that they died, likely very painfully did little to abate her fury. How could the world be so deranged? Had she truly once had views similar to those monsters?

"Even…even in Cyrodiil?"

Nadira's full lips pressed into a grim line as she shook her head gently. Lydia was beginning to feel once again like her world was being turned upon its ear and she had to struggle to gain equilibrium. Only this time instead of gaining a new understanding of her Thane, she was gaining a new understanding of humans…and she didn't like what she was seeing.

"No place is ever free of hatred Lydia, only fools think that. You think that being countrymen is enough to stop Imperials from spitting on Orsimer or assuming that Dunmer are whores and thieves? Do you think that means that Kahjit and Argonians won't have their businesses vandalized or dead cats and lizards thrown at their homes? Do you think that Redguards don't have to fear for their safety when a group of Imperials or Nords walk up to them at night? Of course most of them will tell you it's the other way around when it is not." Nadira shrugged with ennui of a person that understood the way of the world and knew that it would never truly change. It broke Lydia's heart that the other woman could be so matter of fact about such a terrible plight.

"No, Cyrodiil has its own issues, although different from here. Back home I masked my face because there is not an Altmer nor a Redguard on Nirn that can't tell that I am of mixed blood. Most Altmer look at me like I am some piece of trash, or worse that my conception was not one that was consented. For Redguards that is usually the first thought. So instead they hate me for "passing" even though I only look purely Altmer to humans. Rayya is the first outside my family to not look at me that way. Even Bretons can tell the difference…although they hate me for a different reason. After all my parents courted and were wed properly. My father gave his life to keep my mother and myself safe and in turn my mother gave her life to protect me. So I mask my face so that I am judged by my actions…not my appearance. Better to be judged merely for being a citizen of Cyrodiil than for being a _manmeri_ Cyrodiilian. I feel no shame for who and what I am Lydia, nor will I be made to by those that steep themselves in hatred. Still, hearing the same comments, having to prove myself over and over again when others less capable are granted instant acceptance is exhausting. So I mask my face to give myself a little peace in a world that would deny it to me."

The dragonborn hummed softly as she reached for a handkerchief and dried her housecarl's tears. Lydia did not wish to appear so weak, but there was nothing else she could offer her Thane than her remorse. She could not change the world, though she was sorely tempted to put any and all who had ever wronged her Thane to the sword. Her hands twitched with the need to hold her Thane to offer comfort, but what could she a Nord, just as guilty of bigotry offer the gentle manmeri before her? In that moment as her Thane shushed and cooed at her to dry her eyes Lydia renewed her vow to Talos once again. She would be her Thane's save haven, her harbor in a land filled with strangers.

Nodding in gratitude to her Thane's concern, Lydia bore silent witness as the dragonborn replaced her mask and settled the great veiled helm upon her head. She looked terrifying and powerful…she looked beautiful. Lydia knew she would follow her to Oblivion and back. Moving to the foyer and shouldering her pack, the dragonborn pushed open the door and looked back at her housecarl.

"Shall we go?"

A warm smile bloomed upon her face before she gave her answer resolutely, joyously. "Lead on, Thane."

* * *

I will admit I play Bethesda games on PC and modded to pieces, so its been a while since I've SEEN vanilla Lydia. I use the Bijin Warmaiden's mod for her and Rayya so while I try to keep descriptions of them vague if they don't remind you of the vanilla game, that's why. Much of my armor and weapons descriptions come from mods as well. This will end up being a series I think. However I suspect it won't end up in order. This is separate from my other Skyrim story, Occluded Luster yet it features the same dragonborn. Thanks for coming along for the ride.

Your Friendly Neighborhood Dragon,

R. Niiyama

7/2016


	2. A Repulsive Thing I

A Repulsive Thing- Part 1

By Ryu Niiyama

While this is the second story on this series please note that I am writing out of order. I'd love to claim it is on purpose but honestly I just peck on all of them and whichever I finish first gets posted.

I'm not very good with abject hatred, or passive aggressive expressions of it…as it is pretty incomprehensible to me. Which to be honest is why I started this series in the first place. To gain a better understanding of those that hate and why. Lydia is going to be an asshole in this story and in parts of the series, but I hope a redeemable one.

If you wait 24 hours to and don't return to Whiterun after defeating Mirmlur you will be summoned by the greybeards wherever you are in Skyrim. Nadira has stuff to do so she didn't return to Whitrun. After all Irelieth was RIGHT there.

On with the madness.

* * *

How could he do this to her?

Her own uncle, how could he betray her so easily? What had she done to him to incur such punishment? He had denied her the chance to face down the dragon that attacked the guard tower, instead allowing an outsider to ride to Whiterun's aid. She grit her teeth as she remembered her Jarl's command to remain. _"No. Now is not the time for you to test yourself in fire and steel_ , Lydia" Lydia of Whiterun let out a battle cry as she swung at the practice dummy with all her might, severing the effigy's head and causing many of the nearby soldiers to pause in their own training. When she is in a mood like this many of the guard avoid her, no one wanting to cross Lydia the Terrible. Snarling, the housecarl briefly wishes she possessed some skill in magic beyond a magelight spell; it would be very satisfying to set the practice dummy on fire as well.

Sighing heavily, she could hear her mother's kind tones urging patience and clarity. Her mother had been soft like Balgruuf, although she wondered if the Jarl's softness came from a weakness further south. The Jarl thought no one knew of his liaison with his dunmer housecarl, but it was the worst kept secret in Whiterun hold. The only real secret the two possessed was the identity of Nekir's mother, for no one would believe that Balgruuf would tie himself so irrevocably to his dark elf.

She held no ill will towards Irelieth, but just because her uncle loved slumming with elvish rabbits didn't mean that she wanted to. To add insult to injury, she would have to pledge her life and be willing to die for an arrogant, filthy High Elf. To be forced to serve one of the blasphemers of Talos, to have to be willing to take blade or arrow for her? How could the divines possibly hate her any more than this?

Her new Thane had yet to return to Whiterun after assisting the guard in slaying the dragon. Yet the returning members of Irelieth's squad wouldn't stop talking about the supposed dragon slayer. They spoke in hushed, reverent whispers, many of them clutching amulets of Talos or Akatosh as they did so. Lydia rolled her eyes and ignored them; the guards were always a fanciful, gossiping bunch. The manmeri had shown her true colors. She was nothing more than a mercenary, an opportunist. After facing down such a beast she'd obviously fled. There was no other truth to the tale than that.

Yet, Jarl Balgruuf had given her the title of Thane based on Irelieth's word that the Altmer had slain the dragon. Of course one elf would stick up for another and why wouldn't her uncle would take the side of the woman he was bedding? Even if what Irelieth said was true, it was likely because the guards had weakened the beast enough for the Altmer to take advantage. Yet because of such opportunistic folly, Lydia was now bound to an elf of all things. Why not bond her to a Cat or Lizard so that her shame would be complete?

Still, she was a woman of honor and as her Jarl commanded, so would she obey. She would train, so that she may keep the little elf alive. Perhaps in time the elf would shame herself enough that the Jarl would relieve her of such a burdensome duty. For now, however she had to attend to her training. She waved down one of the guards preparing for shift change, knowing he wouldn't turn her down.

"Gunthor, train with me would you?" The large Nord waited until he saw his replacement walking towards them before he nodded gruffly and gathered his things.

The met out in the courtyard and began to square off. Gunthor was a stout man, a little shorter than Lydia's six feet but he was strong and sturdy, which meant that Lydia could vent her frustration on him without fear of hurting him. Waiting until he was ready, the housecarl charged at the guard, keeping her shield high. She slammed her steel shield against his, leaning her weight into the attack enough to knock him off kilter as she brought her sword down to bear. They weren't using training swords but Gunthor recovered quickly and parried the deadly steel. The clashed and Lydia hammered at him, pounding the guard down like a wave slamming into a break wall.

She raised her sword for another strike when the thunderous shout cracked the sky. "DOVAKIIN!" Lydia gasped and lowered her sword as she looked up to the unchanging spring sky. That was the combined voices of the Greybeards and they were summoning the Dragonborn. Steel grey eyes widened as the meaning of such a shout hit her full force. The Dragonborn has come. Just like the tales of old! To think that she would be alive to live to see the awakening of Skyrim's Champion. Surely the dragonborn would be a beautiful, noble Nord warrior, ready to free her people from the tyranny of the Thalmor and Ulfric the Kingkiller.

A grin, jubilant and full of hope split the housecarl's face at the thunderous sound. That was the sound of hope. In that moment the despair of her demeaning service dissipated into the ether. Clasping Gunthor solidly on the back, heedless of the way the poor guard teetered in battered exhaustion, Lydia of Whiterun let out a hearty laugh.

"Come Gunthor! The first round is on me!"

Sighing softly in relief, the weary guard leaned heavily upon his greatsword, his blue eyes alighting upon his sparring partner with a mixture of awe and fear.

"…Gods be praised…Are we done now?"

Lydia merely laughed at Gunthor's jest, not noting the stiff way the guard moved as she clapped him on the back again in her glee. Dragging the weary guard to the Bannered Mare, Lydia quickly drank him under the table and passed the night dancing and celebrating with the other Nords who understood exactly what the return of the Dragonborn meant. She ignored the amused confusion of the outsiders, even quiet Saadia who merely began cutting her mead with water after Gunthor passed out. The Redguard sent for guards to pick Gunthor up and Lydia made her way back to her room, singing "the Dragonborn Comes" off key at the top of her lungs. With a belly full of mead and happy thoughts of the great Hero's coming, Lydia of Whiterun fell into a pleasant slumber with ease.

The next morning found the Jarl's niece training with the guards and completing her daily chores. Despite her blood, Lydia was treated like any other guard other than the fact that the Jarl didn't allow her to perform guard duty within the hold. Dragonsreach was a gilded cage to her, but she had once hoped that one day service to a _worthy_ Thane would bring her freedom, adventure and honorable service. The Jarl had destroyed all of those dreams with one decree and the patronizing utterance that someday she would understand the truest nature of his gift. How dare he… the throne was rightfully her mother's and he'd stolen that and now all he'd done was finally removed any threat to his rule. Lydia had never wanted to be Jarl, but she deserved the right to make her own destiny.

Grumbling as she'd worked herself into a sour mood, the raven haired housecarl turned away from the practice dummy, looking for unsuspecting prey. Slate grey eyes alighted upon one of the scouts, Arnskar. He was a dagger user, best at skulking about but he tended to know the whereabouts of the rest of the guards. Lydia waved the young guard over even as she lowered her sword to a non-threatening position. "Arnskar! Have you seen Gunthor?" Arnskar's deceptively baby face immediately blanched and he cleared his throat gruffly. "He took the day off. Said he pulled a muscle." Lydia sighed and waved the now glaring guard off. "Yeah, yeah. Perhaps if your lover wasn't so soft he could handle a sparring session." Lydia smirked as the scout began to sputter and flounder, knowing that his crush on the infantryman was a closely guarded secret. Still Lydia, didn't want to antagonize him too much. Gunthor was a friend, and Arnskar was death wrapped in a slightly gangly and youthful package. There were stories about him that made even her stomach flop.

"Look, give him a tea using this and tell him to drink plenty of water." The houscarl murmured as she pulled some ginger root from her waist pack and handed it to the scout. Arnskar nodded gratefully, his expression deceptively innocent once more, before he practically sprinted towards the housing district. Shaking her head in amusement, but knowing she now had a favor she could call in, the housecarl sheathed her sword and gathered her shield. Reaching for her waterskin and drinking from it greedily, the housecarl nearly choked on her refreshment as she heard another guard shouting to get her attention.

"Lydia, come, the dovakiin has returned!"

Gods could it be true? The dragonborn here in Whiterun? Surely Jarl Balgruff would make such a legend into a Thane on the spot? Perhaps the dragonborn would be her salvation as much as Skyrim's. She ran into the Great Hall excited to see the face of Skyrim's savior, only to find the irksome elf speaking to the Jarl instead. The time had finally come then. She was to be shipped off to die, without glory or honor for a damned knife ear. She waited for several moments, hoping to find her salvation striding courageously through the massive double doors. Only the knife ear remained, and Lydia felt her hope shrivel up and die. Still, Lydia of Whiterun would not forsake her duty…after all _someone_ had to understand the meaning of honor. Turing quietly, the housecarl exited the great hall and strode quickly to her room.

She'd already packed or sold most of what she'd owned, only keeping things that were of sentimental value and her weapons. With angry haste, the housecarl grabbed the traveling pack and finished filling it with her remaining clothing. Sparing one last glance to the room that she'd lived in since the death of her parents, Lydia of Whiterun walked out and quietly shut the door on that chapter of her life. Heavy steps carried her back to the hall and she thought of the joy that had first caused her to rush to Dragonsreach in the first place. Damn that Rignor; She would make him pay for tricking her so. As she plotted the demise of the unfortunate guard, Lydia forced her face into impassive attentiveness and took her place of to the side, but still in view of the throne.

She assessed her new Thane warily. The mer was taller than her five foot ten frame by about two inches, and she kept her hair and face shrouded with a mask…surely it was only to hide some hideous deformity. Granted, the elves all looked the same, what was one pointy ear from another? Yet only thieves walked around so covered all the time or milk drinkers that couldn't handle Skyrim's crisp climate. Weak _and_ ugly…at least she was not an Orc. The housecarl thanked Talos for small mercies. She was bundled tightly in mismatched furs absolutely looking the part of a bewildered outsider and Lydia stifled a sigh.

The housecarl snapped to ready attention when she saw her new Thane nod in farewell to the Jarl and turn towards the exit. The damned elf didn't even have the grace to bow to her betters; Lydia had to fight the grimace that wanted to crawl unto her features. Still she held her place until the elf reached her, assessing her with muddy guarded eyes.

Not wanting to give the outlander time to speak, Lydia quickly introduced herself. "The Jarl has appointed me to be your housecarl. It is an honor to serve you." Lydia internally commended herself for keeping her tone even and reverent, even though she was essentially being pawned off to an elf like a cheap whore. The confusion that lit the outlander's ocher eyes didn't surprise her, although she had to stifle her irritation. Did the woman not know how to speak? "The Jarl has recognized you as a person of great importance in the hold…a hero. The title of Thane is an honor, a gift for your service." Becoming slightly more annoyed with the still inert woman before her, Lydia's oath came out sounding more put upon than she'd intended.

"As my Thane, I am sworn to your service. I shall protect you and all that you own…with my life."

The elf nodded quickly in acknowledgement and her mask moved in what Lydia assumed was a smile. "Ah, I'd assumed that one could only have one housecarl. I still have so much to learn of Skyrim's customs. I greet you Tuktu. May the fire in your riel burn every brightly." Lydia didn't quite understand the meaning of the greeting… and what the oblivion did the elf mean by only one housecarl? Surely she didn't mean to imply that she had already been made Thane in another hold? Impossible. Only Balgruff would be so generous as to bestow such an honor upon an elf.

The elf bowed at the waist and spoke in a solemn voice. "I am Nadira Gaorin, I hail from Chorrol in Cyrodiil. It is a pleasure to meet you." Gods, a pretentious fop from the Empire. She was likely either a Thalmor spy or a cosmopolitan idiot. Talos save her. The housecarl could manage little more than a nod in response but it seemed to appease her new Thane. "Well, I am famished. If you have gathered your things, I'd like to go to the Bannered Mare for some supper." The housecarl adjusted the pack strapped to her shoulder, wordlessly indicating that she had collected all of her worldly possessions already. The elf moved towards the great double doors and Lydia followed dutifully, her mood darkening into a gloomy thunderhead.

Lydia frowned as a few of the newer members of the companions greeted her new Thane in passing. Surely they didn't let her into their honored ranks? Gods, the world was going to Oblivion in a hand basket. So distracted by her annoyance, the raven haired housecarl barely noticed when she and her new charge arrived at Bannered Mare. It was a little early for dinner, so only the regulars were milling about.

Lydia arched an eyebrow as she watched the normally demure Saadia brighten perceptively at the sight of her Thane. With arms spread wide, the Redguard barmaid rushed to greet her new customer. "Ansei! You liven the Bannered Mare with your presence! Your usual? I can bring it to your room shortly." The elf nodded in appreciation before turning to indicate the surly housecarl by her side."Thank you Saadia, it's good to see you too. Please get Lydia whatever she wants as well. I'll go pay for the rooms." Nodding briefly, the elf moved to the front counter and greeted Huulda warmly as she paid for her lodging. Leaving Lydia uncomfortably squirming under Saadia's assessing gaze.

"Lydia? My apologies, I didn't realize you were with Ansei Nadira. What may I get for you?" The Nord housecarl forced herself not to react at the obvious cooling of Saadia's demeanor. She wasn't rude, but she returned to the way she treated all customers, respectful and polite, yet distant. Lydia wondered why she would give such notice to an elf.

"Uh yes. I serve Thane Nadira now. Um I'll have a pint of mead and an order of veal steak and potatoes. Medium rare." Saadia nodded. "Of course. So she has been made Thane then? That is wonderful…you could not have asked for a better Lady to serve. Excuse me." Lydia bristled at the parting words of the barmaid. Actually she could and _had_ asked for a better Lady to serve. If the Divines couldn't give her a great warrior, why couldn't they at least have given her a Nord? Her mood souring once again, Lydia glowered as she watched the masked elf make greetings to some of the patrons and even brooding Uthgerd perked up at her presence. The elf begged off of an arm wrestling match with the fallen companion before she strode back to Lydia's side.

"Alright, Lydia I have the rooms secured. Let's wash up and eat." Being essentially a palace guard, Lydia was always immaculate, but she dutifully followed her new Thane to the rear rooms of the Bannered Mare. "Here you are, this one is yours. We can eat in my room if you'd like." The housecarl blanched slightly at the somewhat hopeful lilt to the elf's voice. She knew she had to protect the taller woman but surely she didn't have to spend every waking moment with her. Quickly, the housecarl begged off from such an agonizing fate.

"Actually…Thane I am feeling a bit tired. I'd like to retire to my room early if that is alright."

The elf's eyes narrowed in chagrin. "Oh, forgive me! This must have been a long day for you. Sure! I'll have Saadia bring you your meal." Bowing somewhat awkwardly, the elf moved to her adjourning room. Sighing softly, the Nord housecarl moved to her own room and tossed her pack onto the bed. Clenching a fist in annoyance, it was only the soft knock at her door that prevented her from punching the nearby wall in frustration. For a moment she was confused, wondering if the blasted elf needed something else but then she remembered that she'd ordered dinner.

Opening the door and stepping back, the housecarl allowed Saadia to come in bearing a platter of food. "Here you are housecarl. Veal steak and potatoes and I took the liberty of adding a fresh salad and rolls. We need you at your best to defend Ansei Nadira. Also, since you are eating here I've added a pitcher of mead, so you won't have to leave your room for refills. Did you need anything else?"

Flabbergasted, the housecarl shook her head in response and the barmaid nodded before swiftly moving out the open door. Lydia moved to close it only to see Saadia in the hall with her Thane's meal. The Redguard paused briefly, primping her hair and checking for imaginary flecks of dust before she knocked on the door. Ah, so that's what it was. The Nord shook her head before quietly closing the door, what was it with Whiterun citizens slumming with elves?

Sighing softly the Nord sat down to her meal, grateful that as always Saadia laid out a fine spread. The Jarl had petitioned her several times to join his employ, yet she always gracefully declined. It was good that she knew her place was within the walls of the Bannered Mare. Tucking into her meal with gusto, the housecarl let the honeyed mead and delicious food carry her away to contentment and peace.

Lydia jerked awake at the soft knock that at her door. Bleary eyes blinked at the sunlight streaming into the room through the open window. How had she overslept? Her pounding head and the empty pitcher nearby explained everything. The knock sounded again, seemingly booming louder than a bear's roar. Groaning in annoyance the housecarl stumbled to the door, finger combing her hair as she went, hoping it was somewhat presentable.

The guest that greeted her was her new Thane, clad in several robes and what looked to be some sort of light armor although Lydia's blurry vision wasn't any help in discerning any details. The ever present mask was still in place on the elf's face and Lydia wondered what features she could have that would make Saadia swoon so. Then again a woman in love could find beauty in the most repulsive of faces. Perhaps the barmaid had never even seen the elf's face and she let her imagination carry her away... She wondered briefly if the elf was like some of the more pompous Thane that wore gleaming ceremonial armor, but never set foot on a battlefield? Talos had already abandoned her as is, what was one more burden of shame? Of course with her Altmer blood, she was likely a mage. Lydia had little use for magika users but she supposed they could kill an enemy as well as a sword. At least it would hopefully mean she didn't have to die young because some idiot knife ear didn't know how to keep her mouth shut.

"I'm going to head down to the stables to make sure that everything is in order. Please, meet me down there once you are ready." The elf nodded once she'd finished speaking and moved swiftly down the hall towards the exit. Her efficient demeanor instantly soured the hungover housecarl's and she stomped back into her room, tempted to slam the door. Instead she consoled herself with taking her time getting ready and when she finally made her way to the stables Adrianne Avenicci was pulling away from a tight hug and laughing heartily at something the elf said.

Lydia frowned. She liked the Avenicci's; they were respectful and hard-working and Adrianne had even forged the steel blade she now wore at her hip. Still, they were Imperials and the imperials were in bed with the elves and oblivionbent on making Nords suffer. No good could come of such camaraderie. Saadia was next, handing a basket filled to the brim with food to the Altmer and trailing her hand lingeringly down the mage's arm as they parted.

Confused and annoyed, Lydia waited until the Redguard, her solemn demeanor firmly back in place, came near her. "So does Thane Nadira visit you often?" The barmaid paused and turned to look back briefly at Whiterun's new Thane, the other woman was busy packing a nearby wagon; she shouldn't be surprised that the elf needed a carriage driver to take her everywhere. Setting that thought aside, Lydia focused her attention back on the barmaid before her, meeting her gaze easily.

"Excuse me? Oh. Hmm, you saw that? I've yet to avail her of my charms however." Saadia sounded genuinely hurt by that fact and Lydia's eyebrows shot into her hairline. "Really? I've never seen you show this kind of interest in anyone."

Saadia's stern face melted and took on a somewhat dreamy quality. "Well, she is the type of woman you do anything to woo. The divines don't make them like her often." The housecarl struggled to keep her disgust from her face as she watched the normally stern barmaid practically swoon.

"Have you even seen her face?"

"Once. She helped me with some trouble I was in and she took off her mask when she returned to me. She's gorgeous, although I understand the reasoning behind the mask. Some people don't know how to leave others in peace. She tries not to draw attention to herself. Why? Have you not seen her face yet?"

"Uh, No."

"Hmm, well make sure you have smelling salts ready. It's hard to believe a woman like that is such a powerful warrior, at least until you see her arms. Mmm." Lydia was certain that she was still hungover and that was what made serious, quiet Saadia sound like a maiden in some torrid affair. "Safe travels to you Housecarl…keep her safe." Unable to offer any other answer Lydia nodded briefly and moved towards her new Thane with reluctant, heavy steps. Nothing good would come of this…she was certain of it.


	3. A Strange Thing

A Strange Thing

By: Ryu Niiyama

Again, please note these aren't written in order.

* * *

She piled the firewood neatly and checked the morning tea. They had enough jerky for breakfast but she knew that her Thane preferred an omelet for her morning repast. Luckily she'd seen some eggs during her patrol previously so she would be able to surprise her Thane. Lydia of Whiterun grinned at the thought; her Thane was reticent but anything she could do to nurture the fragile bond between them, she would do so joyfully. Her Thane was steadfast in her training and had been up two hours before sunrise, performing sword drills. She never woke Lydia for this early morning training; preferring to spar with her as her final workout instead. At least they were camped near the natural springs that clustered in Eastmarch, so when Lydia had defeat handed to her, she could soak her aching bones.

It had been a year since Nadira Gaeorin had been made Thane of Whiterun. Three months of that time Lydia performed her duty poorly with disdain and resentment. Six months of that time she lay banished from her Thane's side. The loss of her Thane's favor had given her time to reflect and to grow. She had restored a tentative trust between them but true atonement would not come easily she knew. Nadira was not as open with her now, and she often fought as if alone.

Regret and respect humbled the Nord housecarl. She longed for the camaraderie she'd seen her Thane share with her most trusted housecarl, Rayya and her house-steward, Illia. Within their company it was almost impossible to see which woman was the master and which were the loyal servants. Lydia let out a self depreciating snort; in truth Nadira was the type of woman that she'd dreamed of serving, yet she'd jeopardized everything with her pride and ignorance. In her re-dedication to her duty Lydia grew attentive, trying to anticipate her Thane's needs but she was often met with quiet resistance.

Nadira removed and tended to her armor herself, an act she could almost chalk up to her Thane's training as a smith, but even the attempt to remove her helmet was often deflected and denied. The mixed blood set up most of the camp herself, leaving Lydia to tend to her own armor, tent and bedroll. When they were in towns the manmeri paid for separate rooms, not minding if they weren't adjacent to each other. Those unfortunate nights were a torment to Lydia, leaving her restless and anxious; what if someone attacked her Thane? Would she hear? Could she get to her in time? She poked at the campfire sullenly at the thought.

Yet despite the clear distance kept, Nadira still remained kind and generous. Her Thane always paid a smith handsomely to repair her housecarl's armor…and Lydia had received more than a few pitying looks when she went to pick up her gear. Lydia knew what they were thinking; Nadira Gaeorin was a master smith, with perhaps only Eorland Greymane as her peer. Why would she have to pay to have the armor of her attendant repaired? Half the smiths in Skyrim begged to stock at least a few of her wares and gladly let her use their forges as needed. Such awe easily inspired even though Nadira refused to craft wares more sturdy than steel plate or scaled armor despite being swathed head to toe in ebony dragonbone plate or crafting unique weapons and armor for those closest to her. If she could command such reverence with simple works, the only reason she could possibly see fit to allow another to repair her housecarl's armor was because she wasn't worthy of her hammer and skill. Lydia thought of the gleaming quicksilver and moonstone blades that Rayya wore proudly at her hips, seemingly delicately curved blades caped with a flawless ruby on one blade and a flawless sapphire on the other. Lydia had never felt such unmitigated desire for a weapon until she saw those blades that cut down foes like wheat chaff but never loss their glimmering luster.

Sighing softly, the housecarl looked to the blade that lay strapped to her hip. A blade of dragonbone and ebony, perfectly balanced and as deadly as it was exquisite. A blade like that belonged in a Jarl's armory or as an engagement gift to a beloved warrior, and yet Nadira had crafted it without a second thought for a woman that once despised her very existence. It and its matching shield were the only pieces that Nadira tended to herself, mainly because no other smith would dare attempt to hone the princely weapons. The raven haired housecarl curled her fingers around the now familiar hilt…a part of her had hoped that the blade made her special… made her someone worthy of her Thane's regard. Perhaps she had the chance to be once…but it would seem that chance was forever out of her reach.

There was such…regret in her Thane's eyes when she saw her precious creation at Lydia's side. That reticence scalded Lydia's soul more than any other rejection from her Thane. There was no greater pain to a smith than to see their masterworks in the hands of unworthy wielders…to think that Thane Nadira saw her that way was enough to bring bitter tears to her eyes. Yet she could not bear to be parted from the weapons that had become extensions of her arms; she could not relinquish the best means to protect her Thane. This was how a warrior showed love and loyalty; with sword and shield ever ready to slay those that would deny her Thane peace…yet her gestures were seen as unnecessary.

Nadira often relied on herself alone in battle, yet Lydia knew that was not always the case. She'd seen her Thane fight with rank and file soldiers to protect Whiterun…she'd seen the morbid poetry that her Thane could weave when she fought with Rayya or the Vampire Serana at her side. The housecarl grit her teeth at the thought. Although it would seem the vampire had not yet noticed, it was quite apparent to Lydia that her Thane was falling in love with the undead abomination. An already gentle woman grew reverent, and an already mighty warrior grew fierce with the need to protect. Yet Nadia always respected the Nord vampire's skills; never becoming a hindrance in an attempt to impress, never treating the raven haired vampire like an invalid.

She knew now that Nadira wore Mara's token for Serana Harkonsdatter and the thought disturbed her beyond all reason. Why should Thane Nadira shine her radiance on such filth? Lydia was willing to acknowledge that she had been woefully wrong about the other races of Nirn, but she would give no pity to a monster that preyed upon others. Only her kind hearted Thane could see beauty in such creatures. Yet her Thane was shy when it came to matters of the heart. Lydia suspected there was some old wound that she didn't understand, but stoic Rayya would say nothing that would break their Thane's confidence.

Rayya was another obstacle that Lydia knew she had to overcome. A Skyrim born Redguard, her opinion of Lydia plummeted out of existence when she noticed how she'd foolishly treated their Thane. Rayya was adored in Nadira's eyes, in many ways she was the sister that she never had, and Lydia knew that so long as Rayya held her in disdain she had no chance at all at earning her Thane's caring and warmth. The thought of spending the rest of her life viewed as little more than a mercenary sickened her. When had she realized at a world without her Thane's conviction and trust was a harsh and bleak one?

Attentive servitude gave way to awareness. She could no longer stifle the way her Thane made her feel. She felt awe, reverence and respect for a woman she'd once derided. Nadira truly was the shining heroine that the legends had described…even if she shied away from such accolades. To be in service to such a mighty heroine, to learn from her in battle was a dream rarely obtained by any housecarl. Most housecarls served pampered Jarls and heroes long past their prime or worse, opportunists that knew how to curry the Jarl's favor. To have been given a second chance is more than she could have asked for…more than she could have dreamed of.

Yet there was more than a housecarl's loyalty that filled her heart; she longed for the friendship that was freely gifted to others…and the trust that she'd once squandered. Not this approximation of tolerance and wariness that made it seem as if her Thane guarded herself from Lydia as well as the rest of the world. Lydia sighed softly in consternation and annoyance; there was something else and she'd always tried to be honest with herself. She thought of her Thane and she knew that something deeper pulled at her, haunting her with dreams and wishes unfulfilled. The stirrings low in her belly spoke of a hunger long left dormant. How long had it been since she'd longed for a woman properly? How long had it been since her body had been consumed by such fire…and of all the women in Nirn why did it have to be the one woman that would never give her a second glance?

Lydia watches her Thane as she moves through her sword drills. She had never seen anyone move with such grace with a greatsword. Yet the beauty of her movements didn't detract from their deadliness; Lydia knew for a fact that if the Dragonborn was facing true opponents instead of specters conjured by the Thu'um the ground would be soaked in blood.

She forced her breathing to remain even as she watched her Thane's sweat soaked form move through her drills. Her sword never stopping, Raven hair leaping and fluttering about as she shifted and moved. Bronze skin rippled as silken muscle contracted and extended, moving with a muscular grace that seemed almost impossible given her Thane's height. Then again, her Thane's height was average for an Altmer woman; she may have been more muscular but she fully inherited the willowy, lanky limbs of the golden mer.

The Nord housecarl stifled her grimace as she noted the mask was still firmly in place; a subtle reminder that despite being trusted enough to travel with her, Lydia was firmly considered an outsider to be guarded against. The mask was a barrier to bring some semblance of peace in a world that would dog her steps merely for the blood that flowed within her veins. Lydia flushed with shame knowing that Nadira expected her to betray her once more. She was certain her Thane would never call it thus, but what else could a housecarl that had been unwilling to treat her Thane with loyalty or honor be other than a betrayal?

Still Nadira Gaeorin surprised her at every turn…no that wasn't correct, as her Thane hadn't changed at all. She was quiet but kind, gentle and thoughtful and every aspect of her title as a hero had been earned. She was a battlemaiden without equal wielding blades and shield as if she'd been born to them. Given her lineage, Lydia supposed that she had been. The direct descendant of the Champion of Cyrodil…the Hero of Kvatch herself. It seemed ironic that as a child Lydia had practically worshiped Relyn Gaeorin; she'd been too young to have been indoctrinated with the casual, insidious hatred of her people at the time. It hadn't mattered when she was five that an Altmer woman was the celebrated heroine of the Oblivion crisis. Now as an adult steeped in the viewpoints that separated people by race and features rather than merit and still reeling from the scars the Great War left upon her homeland, she found herself in service to the granddaughter of the very woman that made Lydia take up a sword in the first place. She suspected if Nadira had seen some of her childhood drawings, depicting her standing proudly by the side of Cyrodiil's champion, she'd laugh right in Lydia's face.

The housecarl sighed as she watched her Thane perform a particularly difficult move that disarmed her phantom opponent and allowed her to thrust her greatsword through its throat. No, she wouldn't…her Thane was aware of those around her but she took great strides to try to remain as fair as she could while maintaining her own safety. The woman wasn't perfect; she could be focused on a goal to the point of standing apart from others, but her heart was large enough that she'd lain her life on the line for a country full of people that would spit on her as much as look at her. Lydia doubted that her kinsmen would do the same if it was to be a Nord that would become the savior of the Redguard or Altmer homelands.

She blinked as she watched her Thane pause in her movement for a moment, grasping her jerkin and removing it from her sweat soaked, sculpted form, leaving her in her trousers and breastbind. Lydia's throat went dry at the sight and she had to physically remind herself to breathe. By all the divines she couldn't do this. She couldn't stand there and watch the woman that she admired and respected go through some of the most fluidic and exquisite sword drills she'd ever seen while the majority of her upper body lay exposed for her perusal. Moving the tea kettle from the nearby flame, the housecarl stood and gathered her shield. She was only wearing the ebony mail link and cotton jerkin that she wore underneath her armor, but it would be more than enough to keep her protected. She needed to get away for a moment to clear her head.

"I'll guard the perimeter Thane." The Nord woman called out. She barely received a grunt in response but as she watched her Thane make a downward stroke strong enough that her sable hair came loose from its braid, causing the already flustered housecarl to blush and briskly walk out of the clearing.

Talos, preserve her. That woman was going to be the end of her.

She blinked back visions of her Thane: a powerful, svelte form shrouded in silken skin, twinkling amber eyes alight with mischief and wisdom, and a voice that coiled about the soul like a honeyed wine. She paused wondering for a moment what Nadira Gaeorin looked like laid bare and consumed with passion. Would she be proud of her exquisite body or unaware of her devastating beauty? Would she be a shy, cautious lover or would she be commanding and passionate…or perhaps somewhere in-between? Moreso than her beautiful body, what kind of lover would her fiercely loyal and loving heart make her when ensnared by Mara's embrace? Desire and jealousy in equal measure made the housecarl frown at the thought.

The recent dragon attack had left the springs empty…perhaps just this once she could indulge before she went mad with longing. It didn't take much effort to conjure up her Thane gloriously nude beneath her. If only she were more than a servant…or a least a trusted one.

Surely she was not the only one that noticed, no. Aela and Saadia fell over themselves in an attempt to impress her Thane. Aela who only loved her woods and her arrows had finally found someone that she wanted to share her hunts with. Knowing how stubborn she was Lydia knew that meant that the werewolf would be pursuing Nadira with the intent to marry. She wondered if that meant that Aela was the one that turned her? Had the huntress been eyeing her Thane all along?

Then of course there was Saadia; the barmaid said her Thane helped her and she wondered if their common ancestry made her more attractive to her Thane? Nadira was respectful to a fault, but she blushed to the tips of her pointed ears every time the Redguard barmaid bent over too much to refill her milk tankard. Lydia knew that Saadia was flirting on purpose, as with her other patrons, she was distant but respectful. Her thane had remained steadfast for now, but how long would it be until she began to return the barmaid's heated glances or joined Aela for more than a simple task of the Companions?

There were men that looked as well but they held no threat. Like Lydia, Nadira only desired the company and love from others of her own sex. She befriended many male warriors but their overtures meant nothing to her. She frowned as her thoughts drifted once again to the Nord vampire princess… Raven haired and fair skinned and yet her Thane's eyes lit with such fire when she saw her. Perhaps it was not the race of a woman that mattered to her Thane, but instead the heart. If that was the case then Lydia had truly shamed herself when a monster was deemed more worthy than a mortal lover.

She shook her head to clear her thoughts. She was getting ahead of herself. She cared for her Thane and she couldn't deny a burgeoning attraction to her but her feelings ended with that. She couldn't conflate the desire to atone with anything else, lest she drive herself to madness. The Nord housecarl exhaled forcefully and drew her sword. Her mind flashing back briefly to the last time she'd been in a clearing with her Thane far from her side. She'd stumbled upon a group of escaped convicts and likely would have lost her life and her chastity had her Thane not intervened. She could still remember the shock of seeing her Thane in her werewolf form, ripping the men apart, the sounds of their screams filling the glade. They weren't even worthy of feeding upon as the werewolf left them where they fell. Yet even covered in gore, her Thane had been gentle…kind even as she waited out the end of her transformation, keeping her soft gaze locked upon Lydia's fearful one.

The thought of the almost fearful modesty her Thane had exhibited after she changed back only served as a reminder of Lydia's insistence that she not bare her shameful body in her presence. The housecarl rolled her eyes as she took a ready stance…of course now she wanted nothing more than to see her Thane's form unclothed. She couldn't move forward in her life without tripping over her own two feet. She frowned as she realized she was holding her blade too tightly and she forced herself to relax and keep the blade in a neutral grip. She thought of the sparing sessions she had with Nadira; remembering her speed and strength but also the strategy in her movements. Her Thane moved several moves ahead of her opponents mentally yet she kept her body loose enough to adapt quickly if she misread a situation. Her Thane often moved when her opponents moved, gaining the first strike because she saw an opponent's commitment before their body even followed through. It was rare to have such insight when still young enough to move decisively. Elder warriors often could anticipate thus but their own bodies were their own worst enemies by that point. Lydia performed an off center downward stroke turning to the flat of her blade to allow the strike to disarm or allow her to pierce the exposed underarms of an opponent. She'd seen Thane Nadira perform this motion a thousand times, but she still lacked the explosive strength of the manmeri's flowing strikes.

Yet she knew it was more than sheer physical power; despite her powerful physique, her Thane often replied that she didn't rely upon brute force to down her foes. Lydia turned and dropped to one knee her shield arm raised to guard against arrows even as her blade would slice the belly and groin of an unsuspecting attacker. As she mimicked her Thane she felt a closeness to her that was long absent from their current interactions. How many years had Nadira trained this way to conquer her body so that it could dance in battle so? How long would it take for her to reach her Thane?

For a moment she could feel her Thane with her, moving through the drills to show her, trusting her with her path to the blade. Panting, she returned her blade to its scabbard and she bowed as she'd often seen her Thane do, showing respect to the blade and the space that allowed her to train. That moment of synergy, that fleeting sense of understanding allowed her to focus her wayward thoughts. Grateful for the reprieve, the Nord woman turned and headed back to the campsite checking the perimeter as she went.

As she entered the clearing she saw her Thane walking back to her tent, her body freshly bathed and a towel tightly wrapped around her sculpted form. She was unmasked and Lydia felt a kick to her heart and her fingertips began to tingle as she looked upon Nadira captivating beauty. This was a woman that invoked adoration and envy effortlessly, her beauty enough to make Dibella swoon. Nadira looked up and met Lydia's eyes and the housecarl knew at that moment that her heart was breaking. Her Thane paled slightly as she saw Lydia and the housecarl watched the manmeri woman reach for her clothes hastily even as she rolled her right shoulder in pained annoyance.

Her Thane's reaction struck her like a slap and the Nord removed her sword belt and carefully placed the weapon within her belonging before turning to the somewhat nervous manmeri. Nadira held her clothing to her chest like a shield and it sickened Lydia to know she'd reduce the kind woman to such self-consciousness. Before she could flee the clearing to dress Lydia called out to her.

"Allow me to tend to you Thane."

Nadira looked wary at first, but she moved towards Lydia anyway. Swallowing a triumphant smile, the housecarl began to remove the bundled clothing from clenched fingers; keeping her movements smooth and even, despite wanting to burst into tears. She folded the clothing neatly and placed them aside, before moving to the still warm tea kettle and pouring her Thane a mug and sweetening it with honey. Handing her the mug, Lydia moved to gather their spare bedrolls and laid them down so that they would be close enough to the fire to offer her Thane warmth but not be uncomfortable.

"Here Thane. Lay down and get comfortable. You will need to remove your towel."

The housecarl turned as if she had not asked her Thane to bare her body before her and moved to her pack pulling out rose scented liniment. Counting in her head to ten, Lydia removed her mail shirt, trousers and boots before grasping the ointment and turning to face Nadira. Finished with her tea, her Thane lay down on her belly before her, nude as the day she entered the world and Lydia felt her mouth go dry. She'd made a point not to bathe with her Thane before, and now that they were reunited Nadira continued the trend. She moved with the hesitance of a reprimanded child when she had to unclothe herself; Lydia's disdain seeding a self-consciousness that hadn't been present before.

If it were possible to throttle one's past self, Lydia would have done so a thousand times by now. At best, she had seen hints of her Thane's strength; she'd seen her chiseled arms on display or caught the barest glimpse of a well-defined calf the one time her Thane had shifted back to her manmeri self via a sneezing fit. Today's training was the most she seen of the other woman's body since and Lydia was certain that it was merely because her Thane had been swept away by her training.

Yet nothing could prepare her for this. Nadira Gaeorin was… exquisite. Whatever clarity she'd gained upon her walk fled from her, leaving her resolve weakened and addled by the sight before her. Her Thane's body rippled with power, primal and feminine. Well defined, evenly proportioned, almost sculpted muscle twitched and rippled under dusky golden skin and Lydia had to force herself to keep her breathing even, knowing full well that a werewolf with Altmer blood could hear her easily. Lydia fought to keep her knees from buckling as she lowered herself to a kneeling straddling position that left her hovering just above her Thane's firm and shapely posterior.

Hands steady in battle, trembled as she dipped her fingers into the jar of ointment and rubbed them together to coat them. Clearing her throat, Lydia reached out her hands and began to kneed the flesh at her Thane's neck and shoulders. How could a hardened warrior have such soft skin? Lydia saw the few scars that littered her Thane's body- the scarcity of the wounds a testament to her skill as a smith and a warrior, yet every place she touched felt silken and smooth. It was irrational, but Lydia feared her calloused hands would mar such surprisingly delicate skin. Closing her eyes and pushing the sensation of warm silk from her mind, the housecarl let her fingers prod and poke at her Thane's tense form. As she worked out the knots and massaged the glorious muscles, she bit back a whimper of pure need.

A low pop echoed in the clearing, followed by the most obscene moan Lydia had ever heard. The sound traveled straight to her core and she had to fight the urge to grind herself against her thane's tantalizing backside. By the gods she needed to focus; but she couldn't for the life of her remember the last time she'd been this wet, arousal searing her like wildfire. If she was with a woman for courting, she would have leaned forward and brushed her lips against her exposed neck and shoulders by now. Gritting her teeth she found herself fighting the urge to press her body tightly to her Thane's.

Lydia exhaled and concentrated her ministrations on her Thane's right shoulder. The manmeri was ambidextrous as a musician and a warrior, but her writing and handling of tools were firmly right handed endeavors. This of course meant that her right arm was taxed so much more, especially now that she was producing more steel and iron swords for sale. The metal was easier to work than her specialties of ebony, moonstone and quicksilver but the volume of the work she was doing meant that she was demanding more of her right arm than usual.

As she listened to her Thane's whimpering moans, arousal evened out into concern and devotion. She would have to ask Illia to prepare a salve for her Thane's muscles. Divines forbid that Nadira harm herself in battle due to her increased workload. Deprived of the Dragonborn, a talented warrior and smith she knew Nirn would never recover from such a loss….she would never recover from such a loss. After she was certain that she'd reduced her Thane into a puddle of contentment and lassitude, Lydia patted the older woman's shoulder and rose from her kneeling position.

She was proud of herself honestly; her mind had seem to have been possessed by Sanguine as fought to think of anything other than that beautiful dusky, golden form intertwined with her own. Forcing her shaking steps to remain even she moved to the bucket she kept by her tent to rinse her hands and she replaced the jar. She would need to prepare morning breakfast soon and sharpen her weapons. They would likely travel in search of a word wall today. Lydia had gotten better at reading the agitation that seeped into her Thane when they were near a location that held the enchanted walls. The "whisper" called to Nadira, sometimes making her as jumpy as a skooma addict coming off a high. She couldn't imagine how it tugged at her Thane's soul to be the Dragonborn. It seemed so simple in the tales…yet the reality…the pain was far from the truth. Perhaps she could look for wild berries to make a camp fire tart for lunch as well. A small joy to brighten her Thane's day.

The Nord paused in her planning as she realized she could hear light snoring. Turning, she saw her Thane dosing lightly upon the furs. Smiling warmly, the housecarl picked up a clean towel and draped it over the manmeri; the material would stave off any chill, but keep her from getting too hot. Nadira's sleep had been so tortured lately. Despite her skill, wisdom and power, Nadira was almost too gentle of a soul to endure battling the evils of the world. Lydia wanted to protect her from that yet she knew she could not chase away the Dragonborn's destined path. All she could do was be there to support and defend her until the end. Unable to stop herself, she shifted aside dark raven locks, impossible on a full blooded Altmer yet a silken ebony crown upon her Thane; the movement exposing her strong yet elegant neck to slate grey eyes.

She would give her life for this woman, gladly and without hesitation. Whatever burdens her Thane bore she swore she would aid her in hefting them. Her heart swelled with affection and she promised herself that one day Nadira Gaeorin would not fear her reaction; one day she would not expect betrayal and chastisement. One day her brilliant smiles would be for Lydia of Whiterun to gaze upon. One day her Thane would be proud that she had crafted blade and armor for a trusted housecarl. Lydia vowed in her heart that she would become a woman her Thane would be proud to stand by…and perhaps one day… She shook her head and leaned forward her lips so close to her Thane's fragrant skin. The thought of the Amulet of Mara around her Thane's neck, her amber eyes warm with affection and desire…

No.

The housecarl pulled away and stood, still staring at her Thane's slumbering form. Her Thane would not have to guard against her…she would make herself a bastion of loyalty, immovable and strong. She would weed out this strange thing that coiled about her heart and she would become irreplaceable. This is how a housecarl shows her love and affection…sword and shield ever ready…nothing else. She couldn't be more than that.

She didn't deserve it.

* * *

10/13/17

R. Niiyama


	4. A Hardwon Thing

This Thing between us: A Hardwon Thing

By: Ryu Niiyama

Please note these are not written in order.

* * *

Rayya of Falkreath didn't look up as she heard Lydia of Whiterun stumble forward to grip trembling white-knuckled hands against the deck railing. She knew what drew the Nord, what tugged at her soul and left her raw and bleeding. Their Thane's sweet voice rose haunting and aching from within the woods that surrounded Lakeview Manor, a lament putting her pain to song. Lydia's grey eyes fluttered as she struggled to hold back tears and Rayya felt a kinship with the Nord for the first time. For once Rayya felt that she could share the woman that was Lady, sister, friend and battle sibling with the foolish young woman beside her.

"By the Divines…What…Rayya…what has happened?" The Skryim born Redguard hid a smirk as she watched Lydia just barely physically restrain herself from leaping from the banister to seek out their Thane. She had always held the boasting of the fire of the Nord heart in disdain, having grown up an outsider within the lands of her birth, but she couldn't deny the obvious evisceration of the partially redeemed housecarl. Lydia worked tirelessly for their Thane's regard and forgiveness and in her earnestness came to know Mara and Dibella's touch. The fool of a Nord housecarl tried mightily to hide it and perhaps she thought those around her shared their Thane's obliviousness, but any with eyes to see knew that Lydia of Whiterun had come to love her Thane both as a housecarl and as a woman.

"Hold fast, Lydia. You cannot help her." The Nord whirled around as if facing down an enemy, her body twitching with the need to act. Rayya did not break her intent gaze upon the furious young housecarl. With no enemy to strike against, Lydia grit her teeth and gripped her biceps, blunt nails digging into her muscular arms. More of the haunting lament rose from the clearing and the Nord turned back and banged a fist against the railing.

"How can you say that…can you not hear her pain?!" The Nord hissed in outrage, her arms flailing wildly with restrained frustration.

Rayya would not give the Nord the satisfaction of seeing her roll her eyes. "Of course I hear it. And if you value the blood in her veins you will honor her as any Redguard would and stand apart from her in silent support. She grieves." Rayya arched an eyebrow as she watched the Nord take in a shuddering breath, and the Redguard almost flinched as slate grey eyes brimming with unshed tears met her gaze hesitantly.

"For whom? I know the war has taken its toll but..." Something about Lydia's unexpected empathy struck Rayya like a blow and the older woman frowned in a rare break of her calm, neutral mien.

"Surely even you know that Mer live longer than humans."

Confused and angry on behalf of her not so secret love, Lydia turned impatient grey eyes back upon the warm mocha ones of the most trusted of the Dragonborn's housecarls. "What does that have to do-"

"Ansei was in her second decade when the Great War struck."

Lydia flinched and staggered back, overwhelmed at the thought that her Thane had lived through the war that ended before her own birth, even more so considering that the Dragonborn was a native Cyrodillian; the land at the heart of the conflict. It was strange, before her awakening Lydia knew with great shame that she would have assumed that somehow being of Altmer linage that her Thane would have been shielded from the war. Yet the distraught aria that filled the air and Lydia's soul with unbearable pain obviously proved otherwise. Her attempts to learn more about Altmer history also uncovered the culling of the Dominion; they turned on their own if they didn't agree with the Dominon's rhetoric and unlike the civil war in Skyrim the Altmeri citizenry of the Summerset Isle had been caught unawares. There were rumors that the Thalmor extended their culling, in a more diplomatic fashion of course, to Cyrodiil as well. Snarling in frustration, the Nord woman stumbled to the nearby outdoor table and sat heavily upon a bench.

She ached to go to the other female whose pain touched her like a physical blow, but she knew she had no right. If her Thane's sister in spirit could not comfort her, Lydia knew there was no succor that _she_ could provide. She hated it, hated the foolishness of her actions that still held her at arm's length from the female she yearned for. Yet she accepted with a heavy heart that her Thane's bruised, reticent heart deserved some measure of peace…even from Lydia herself.

"I cannot imagine…but surely…Chorral endured damage but it was not sacked…Why does she hurt so, Rayya?"

"Our Thane's burdens are not mine to reveal." Though the words were spoken truthfully, there was a test that lay within.

Lydia spread her hands in supplication. "Please Rayya, I ask for no weapon to turn against her. Only…to understand. So that I don't trespass upon her spirit." Rayya arched an eyebrow, brushing against her head covering. She folded her arms and glared at the Nord woman. To her credit, Lydia didn't turn away, and so Rayya pressed further.

"And you would care about that?"

The Nord housecarl flushed with anger. "I- I deserve your wariness, but for now Thane Nadira has accepted me, however chilled her acceptance may be. Unless she has deemed me an enemy to be struck down, my vow to shoulder her burdens is still intact." The sincerity of the Nord's tone struck Rayya with a wild moment of hilarity. This coming from a woman that couldn't stand to be in the same room as their Thane; Rayya had spent the three months before their long suffering Thane exiled the Nord, fearful for her life. She'd been terrified that Lydia, in her disdain for their Thane's life, would falter in her vow to protect and lead her to her death. She trusted her Thane's vaulted skills, but there was nothing more dangerous than the blade of betrayal. While grateful for the change that that Lydia seemed to be trying to make, Rayya was still wary and knowing what she did about Lydia's true emotions she would not give her trust away so easily.

"Is it the vow of a housecarl that you seek to uphold? You think yourself hidden, but your lust is in plain sight."

Lydia looked away briefly at the accusation, but turned and met her fellow housecarl's gaze easily. Rayya was pleased to see the fire of conviction but not of self-righteous anger or denial within the slate colored eyes of the younger woman. "Dibella is not the only one that touches my heart. Insult me if you must, but don't insinuate that our Thane is not magnificent. She is known throughout every hold and every Jarl jockeys to be her patron. My opinion of her will not change that." Rayya hummed in amusement and Lydia felt her heart lighten at the gesture. After all, it was not just their shared Thane's whose regard she must earn.

"Come, we must help Illia in preparing the noontime meal. Ansei will sing until she loses her voice and she will cry and ache until she lies sick with exhaustion. We must prepare to replenish her taxed reserves." Lydia followed her fellow housecarl with reluctant steps. The three passed much of their tasks in silence, for once an amiable but solemn camaraderie bound them as a triad rather than a duo and Lydia's steadfast antagonism. Yet Lydia could not be comforted by the act of service. Raaya watched the agitated movements of the Nord housecarl with an assessing eye. She could feel Illia's questioning gaze upon her back and she tried to keep her body language neutral to keep from agitating her Imperial friend. She wasn't sure of the reason, but Illia seemed to condemn Lydia more harshly than herself or Ansei Nadira.

Although Rayya suspected it was a bit of culture shock to the young mage, even with her hedge mage upbringing, Imperials, Nords and Bretons often exhibited a superficial bonding when it came to how they treated other races. Imperials possessed a more arrogant, but self-righteous disposition toward other races, but Rayya knew as well as anyone that often the assumption that one was without hatred allowed it to take another, more _acceptable_ form than outright vitriol. Illia would have likely expected Lydia to approach others similar to herself, and the housecarl's initial antagonism likely sparked an overreaction because of it. Rayya and Nadira however, tended to approach others with a more neutral but wary hand borne from experience and an understanding that people…are very, very slow to change. With a huff of frustration, the Nord housecarl turned her flashing slate grey eyes seared the elder housecarl with restrained passion.

"How can you bear it Rayya?"

The Redguard's calm countenance finally cracked as she frowned in annoyance. "I don't. Do you think me unfeeling? By the Eight it broke my heart the first time she showed me the depths of her sorrow. But I spit upon her pain if I wallow in it with her. I was not there… I can't possibly understand the burden she bears….I can only lift her up when she falters. It is not my place, nor yours to shed tears with her." Lydia nodded grimly and walked back outside; if she could not share her Thane's pain, she would bear witness to it.

Rayya said nothing as Lydia slipped away, grateful that her Thane would have a guardian. The Nord woman was impulsive, but she possessed an honest heart and a mind that questioned constantly. Those traits were what allowed her to wonder if her anger towards all Mer and resentment towards those not of Nord blood bore merit. Yet she didn't pretend she was above her former self, didn't demand that others forget and pay her sweet tribute for her change of heart. That action alone marked a true change rather than an attempt to hide one's nature to garner affection. Lydia took her heart to task at all times, never forgetting her ugliness but not letting it prevent her from acting in good faith. Still, she ignored Rayya's petition for a housecarl's support. If Lydia truly sought to stand by their Thane's side as more than her defender then she would need to see the truth of their Thane. She would need to bear her pain where Rayya and Illia could only care for her in the aftermath.

The Redguard turned as she felt a deceptively delicate hand slip into her own and she turned to the Steward of Lakeview Manor, Illia. "Are you alright Rayya?" The older woman softly smiled at her friend and partner in aiding the Dragonborn. "Yes, thank you Illia. I just…I just wish…" She paused as she felt Illia pull her into her arms and hold her tightly. "I know Rayya, I do as well. But we can be here…for them both in the aftermath." Rayya, nodded and finally, finally let her tears fall into Illia's raven hair.

Lydia padded carefully through the forest, mindful of every branch and twig upon the ground to prevent her from alerting her Thane of her arrival. The haunting singing had stopped but it would seem that even the animals felt the pangs of grief as they made themselves scarce. Lydia moved until she could see her Thane huddled against a great tree. The older Manmeri sat rocking herself like a child even as her body trembled and lurched sporadically in great, heaving sobs. Lydia longed to go to her, the sight of her strong, gentle Thane so shattered clawed at her soul. In this moment she was not a housecarl sworn to protect her Thane's life and possessions. Instead she was merely a woman that ached to protect the beautiful heart of the one she adored. Yet Rayya was right, there was nothing she could do except offer silent support. Her embrace would be rejected and she would fall upon her own sword before caused her beloved Thane more pain.

There was no jealousy in Lydia's heart as she looked upon her broken Thane, only fury at the unfairness of the world and compassion and love and longing for the one she cherished above her own life. It took several more candlemarks but eventually the Dragonborn fell into an exhausted slumber. Lydia rose from the perch she'd taken and carefully moved to look upon her beloved. Raven hair disheveled and her skin blotchy and ruddy from crying and scrubbing at her tears, her bottom lip was torn from biting down upon it so fiercely that she drew blood.

Yet in this moment as Lydia of Whiterun removed her handkerchief and carefully cleaned her Thane's face, she believed that she had seen the truth of her Thane's beauty and it humbled her to near supplication. This was the price that a loving and caring heart paid to exist in such a tumultuous world, this was the burden of a soul too gentle for the hard tasks that destiny demanded. Yet aside from this indulgence, her Thane met her challenges head on and aided even those that would spit upon her for the mere reason that her sense of valor and just will demanded no less of her.

Just when Lydia believed she could love this Manmeri female no more, she found that her heart could swell greater still with affection and desire and touched the Amulet of Mara that she kept in her side pouch. She wasn't worthy enough to wear it for her intended one, but she would gladly walk Mara's Way in substitution. Her Thane's face now clean, Lydia carefully took the slightly taller woman into her arms, grateful for her increased strength training under her Thane's guidance. The Nord said nothing as she walked towards the manor, her Thane held gently within her embrace. She paused as she noticed a figure standing outside the grove, luminescent orange eyes glowing with gentle intensity.

Lydia pulled her unconscious Thane closer still as she came to a stop in front of Serana Harkonsdatter of the Volkihar Clan. Serana met her gaze briefly before she stepped closer, her arms raising involuntarily as she took in the Dragonborn's vulnerable state. Though the Vampire was a friend to her Thane, Lydia couldn't bear the thought of handing the Dragonborn to the Vampire that rejected her. Lydia would easily admit that part of her reticence was purely due to the raging jealousy that she felt towards the ancient Nord while the other was the mistrust of the Vampire's nature. She would never again judge Man or Mer by their blood, but she would not give such courtesy to a monster…no matter how civilized. Vampires preyed upon the sentient living and while she could abide the werewolf blood of her Thane she knew that werewolves did not possess such natures. Hardening her features, Lydia stepped back briefly, to keep the Vampire at arm's length.

"Whatever task you have for her…not today."

The Vampire paused, her face mournful as she watched her savior and friend be moved further away from her, before she looked into the quietly hostile gaze of the mortal Nord. Serana wanted to laugh wildly at the put upon look on the mortal's face. She knew of Lydia of Whiterun's disgrace and slow redemption and she also knew that the young Nord's heart held more than a Housecarl's loyalty. If Lydia of Whiterun thought those around her didn't notice her affection for her Thane, then she truly was a fool. A dark part of Serana wanted to rend this chattel before her into pieces, for the pain she'd caused her friend, but she knew that she had no right to play defender. Not when she'd rejected Nadira's shy but earnest courtship.

"I didn't…I just wanted to see her…please, let me help."

The housecarl looked at war with herself, but she couldn't deny that the rest of the walk to the manor would be excruciating should she continue. Nadira was two inches taller than Lydia and she had at least 40 pounds of additional muscle thanks to her heritage and her profession. The housecarl was sturdy and strong but she was still mortal. With a grudging nod, the housecarl beckoned the Vampire closer and Serana took the Manmeri into her arms easily, her inhuman strength making it an easy task. Lydia begrudged the otherworldly strength that left the Vampire closer in common with her Thane's wolf blood, but she was grateful that her Thane's sleep would be undisturbed.

Quietly the two Nord women walked towards Lakeview Manor, their hearts each in silent turmoil. Each ached to offer succor to the Manmeri that bound them together, each begrudged the other for her place in the Dragonborn's life. Serana's shoulder blades itched where her wings would be in her true form and for one wild moment she longed to fly away with her precious friend within her arms. Yet she could not, would not make this about her; not when her trip to see her friend had turned into a frantic march as she heard the aching sounds of her grief.

Rayya met the Nords at the entryway to the manor, saying nothing as she ushered them inside. Serana easily carried the unconscious Dragonborn to her bedroom and lay her upon the large, soft bed. She brushed away raven curls from the younger female's brow before ghosting a kiss over her brow ridge. "Please my friend, I can't bear to see you suffer so. What haunts you?" The Vampire aborted further touch upon the Dragonborn and stood and moved away smoothly as her preternatural senses picked up the sounds of footsteps. Rayya and Illia entered each carrying supplies, moving as a cohesive unit. "Please, Lady Serana if you would wait outside?" The Nord Vampire nodded haltingly before she stepped outside. She nearly bumped into the angry, brooding form of Lydia of Whiterun. The younger Nord glared at her briefly, before moving aside to let her pass.

Lydia looked after the deceptively young form of the Vampire as she walked towards the cellar. After the long months that had cultivated their friendship, the Dragonborn built a private suite for the Vampire next to her art studio in the cellar. Lydia frowned at the thought; her Thane spared no expense and crafted a fine bed and living area to allow her friend her privacy. She remembered watching her Thane crafting the bed, carefully running her spokeshave over the wood of the headboard with a small smile on her face. The Nord clenched her fist in frustration; her Thane wept for the long dead and gave her heart to the unattainable, yet she would accept no comfort from Lydia, her heart both as a master and a lover, forever beyond her reach. Lydia looked up as she heard Rayya and Illia exit the Dragonborn's bed chambers.

"How is she?"

Rayya spoke up, knowing that Illia would not. "She rests. As well as she can with Quagmire weighing down her dreams. Now, we wait."

Lydia nodded and strode up the stairs determinedly. The Nord paused briefly before she opened the door and padded softly to her Thane's bedside. The Manmeri slept but it was a not an easy rest. Her raven eyebrows twitched and her head tossed as she was locked in a nightmare beyond Lydia's ability to slay. The Nord housecarl reached out a hesitant hand and grasped that of her Thane's, intertwining their fingers. Carefully, softly the housecarl began to sing, praying in her heart that her Thane's tie to her Redguard heritage and music would act as beacon as she traveled within Vaermina's realm. It took time, but eventually the elder female calmed and evened into a restful sleep. In a moment of weakness Lydia leaned forward and brushed her lips softly against her Thane's brow. Moving back, the housecarl stood and moved to the chair opposite her Thane's bed. Her gaze never leaving her beloved master, the Nord housecarl watched and waited.

Rayya left a small wash bowl and cloth near her Thane's bedside table as she watched Lydia of Whiterun dozing lightly in the perch she'd taken to keep watch over their Thane. It was a pity the foolish young woman had spoken with rancor and antagonism when she was first bonded to their Thane. So much of the arrogance of youthful, nationalistic pride had been lanced from the Nord's heart by hardwon experience. She still loved her people and her country, but she no longer found the races of others to be less nor did she believe that only Nords had the right to call Skyrim home. She was not yet certain if the new enlightenment Lydia found was driven by her heart or her loins, but for now Rayya would offer a wary olive branch to the young Nord. For now they stood together to safeguard the Dragonborn…to safeguard Nadira. Gently, the Redguard woman reached out and grasped the shoulder of the housecarl, pleased that like any good warrior she slept lightly when in defense of her protectorate.

"Go on and take a rest Lydia. I'll watch over her."

The Nord nodded and stood, but Rayya could see the hesitance inspired by the affection in her heart. The older housecarl smiled gently, and Lydia moved away, but not before Rayya caught the glint of an amulet of Mara from her sidepouch. Her eyes widened in shock, surely she hadn't fallen deeply enough to walk Mara's Path? The Redguard turned her eyes to her sleeping Thane, shaking her head softly as she heard the door close. If she did take the path of a pilgrim the young Nord was in for a great deal of heart break.

Lydia walked outside, only to find Serana standing near the stable, petting Hayate, her Thane's loyal warhorse. The white mare was intelligent to the point of being unnerving and she was very discerning of whom she allowed to pet her. Lydia had been knocked into a water trough and more than one mud puddle in the past; the warhorse as fiercely loyal to her mistress as Rayya and Illia were. Yet a being that preyed upon the living was welcomed and accepted by her Thane's loyal companion. It bothered her, perhaps more than it should, but all she could think was Serana inspired her Thane to wear an amulet of Mara under her tunic, while Lydia was barely considered a faithful servant. The memory of her Thane, drowning in her unknown grief, while Serana was likely here to petition for further assistance in her quest to defeat her father set the housecarl's temper on edge.

"What are you doing here?"

Burning blood orange eyes turned with detached interest to meet her gaze. "I am here to see my friend, housecarl. I didn't realize I was required to check in with you." Shaking her head, the Vampire moved to walk past the mortal Nord. The easy dismissal in the Vampire's voice set Lydia aflame with indignation and she stepped forward boldly, reaching out to grip the ancient Nord's arm. "To see her or to put her life in danger once again for the foul deeds of your family?!" Serana didn't respond, she merely looked down at the hand that clutched at her. Smiling wanly, the Vampire princess reached out and with an almost gentle touch she grasped the young Nord's hand. With effortless strength Serana squeezed and removed the hand and applied enough torque to drive the stubborn housecarl to her knees.

"Watch yourself little one. Do you think because you are mortal that you are somehow more trustworthy than I? I know who you are Lydia of Whiterun, I know how you have hurt her. It is only her grace alone that keeps me from ripping your still beating heart from your treacherous breast. It is strange, you children spit on Mer but your coming here from Atmora was not as victorious as you think. The Falmer and the many that would come to be known as the Chimer took your ancestors in, protected them, and taught them the land only to be betrayed and drawn into war. Only the Dwemer remained wary. Many of your kin lay with the Mer your kinsmen claim to detest, kissing them with poisoned lips. Is that what draws you to her, I wonder, some hidden ancient bloodlust that you can't escape?" Serana leaned close to the subdued housecarl's ear as she spoke her breath cool and sweet, her glowing eyes burning with her own form of righteous indignation.

Lydia struggled as anger, fear and unwanted arousal churned in her gut and the Vampire princess smirked and let her go, allowing her to sprawl inelegantly against the ground. Burning orange eyes looked upon the mortal with disdain. "You are not her only protector, and unlike you my love and loyalty to her has never wavered. Challenge me at your own peril, _after_ she is well, but do not mistake my mercy for weakness." Lydia held her injured hand as the Vampire turned her back and walked further into the woods and into the night. Frustrated and annoyed that she'd not only played her hand but had been bested by her rival with ease, the housecarl smacked her injured hand against the ground the pain dulling that which lay within her heart. She would have to tread more carefully around this Daughter of Coldharbor lest she lose everything.

Slowly, grudgingly the housecarl rose to her feet and walked back inside and to her bedroom on the first floor. Unlike Illia and Rayya whom had been given a small house to allow them to live autonomously from their Thane, though they still spent most of their time at the manor, Lydia slept in the guest quarters on the first floor only when her Thane returned to her home. The housecarl leaned against the double doors, resting her raven head against the solid hand crafted oak and finally she let her bitter tears fall. She knew what she wanted, but there seemed to be no place for her, not here in Lakeview Manor, nor in the heart of her beloved Thane. Distraught, the housecarl prayed in her heart for Talos to show her the way to her Thane's side and that her Thane find peace from the darkness of her grief. Lydia of Whiterun's sleep was restless as her heart lay in turmoil with thoughts of the Dragonborn.

Lydia woke to the sounds of sparing; the back room of the manor functioned as a training hall for the Dragonborn and from the sound of it, her Thane was putting it to good use. The housecarl stood and moved to the nearby wash basin to clean her face and she dressed quickly, strapping her dragonbone and ebony blade to its customary place at her hip. She could hear Rayya in the kitchen preparing breakfast and she knew that Illia was outside gathering firewood and preparing bathing water. Apparently Illia had no aptitude for cooking, although she was currently taking lessons from the elder housecarl. Lydia rolled her eyes at that thought; it hadn't taken long for her to figure out the Imperial's longstanding affection for her partner and friend. They worked well together so she wouldn't entirely fault the normally perceptive Rayya's lack of awareness, but she just hoped that Rayya's new found tolerance of her would mean that Illia would stop glaring at her or freezing her bath water.

As she neared the training room Lydia paused as she could hear grunts from blows deflected and landed within. Her Thane's skill in crafting extended to carpentry, with Lakeview Manor having been built by her Thane and Rayya from the ground up, and she paused at the massive glass and wood panes that functioned as a wall between the entrance of the training hall. Aside from their striking aesthetic qualities, the reason for a glass wall was functional; it allowed one to quickly see if the room was occupied and prevented one from being hurt while trying to enter the training hall unawares. Lydia paused and gripped the hilt of her sword tightly as she watched her Thane in werewolf form grapple with Serana. The two moved together as if they had been battle siblings all of their lives rather than the year that they'd known each other.

There was a look of fierce determination and joy on the Vampire's face as she deflected and dodged the well placed strikes from her Thane. Lydia couldn't bear to see the visceral bond between vampire and werewolf on easy display. Serana may have rejected the Dragonborn but there was great affection in her heart that was plain to see. There was a reckless anger thrumming beneath the surprisingly precise and skillful movements of the large yet somewhat sleek werewolf. Lydia allowed her gaze to focus solely upon her Thane, noting the sturdy, broad shouldered raven pelted form of the werewolf. She could see the lighter strip of fur across her cheeks and the bridge of her snout, denoting where her freckles were in her Manmeri form. Her claws were sheathed, as she was sparing with her friend and not a threat, and her intent ocher eyes sparkled with her intelligence and wit still intact. Lydia noted that the werewolf was totally sexually inert, bearing no features at all that would give an allusion to her sex, as even her chest was bare of all physical characteristics save a thin coating of fur. The housecarl arched an eyebrow at the thought that Hircine had created perfect hunters, beings that wanted and needed nothing more than the hunt. Yet she knew from experience that a Human or Mer could retain their affection even without the pull of desire…and that the call of desire could be answered if the werewolf chose to heed it.

She thought of the past, of another werewolf she'd seen so close. Of warm blue eyes that accepted her and of a dark russet pelt that smelled of lavender and blood as she was carried sick with grief to Whiterun. Lydia blinked back tears as she recalled that black night so long ago; she'd almost buried it within her heart, yet her Thane's grief had wrenched it to the surface…and perhaps allowed her the perspective she needed after all of these years to heal. Another reason to be grateful to her Thane then. When would she be allowed to be of use to her Thane? To repay the debts that only seemed to grow by the day? The sound of her Thane going down, Serana straddling her back while she held her immobile with a deceptively strong arm looped around her throat pushed the housecarl towards the door, yet it was the sight of her Thane tapping out and then quickly reverting back to her Manmeri self that arrested Lydia's movements. The sound of her weeping, and the sight of Serana altering her hold into one of comfort made her step back before turning and exiting the manor.

The Nord housecarl paused as she looked upon her Thane's estate. Her Thane had a good eye for the cultivation of land, having turned a large heavily forested plot into a sprawling deceptively luxurious estate. Aside from the main manor and stables a small workshop and forge lay near the mountain that bracketed the estate. Behind the manor, near the kitchen a lush garden grew, full nearly to the brim with fresh fruits and vegetables while a small mill and apiary lay to the east of the manor. A bath house lay to the south of the manor complete with a small rushing stream that passed through it while Illia's greenhouse stood next to it. The Dragonborn had no skill in alchemy and built a grand and fully stocked alchemist office within the greenhouse to allow Illia to continue her work with her beloved herbs and plants.

While she could not brew a potion to save her life, Nadira of Chorrol was an Enchantress without equal. Although as she was the granddaughter of the last Archmage of the Mage's Guild and the current Archmage of the College of Winterhold, Lydia bore no surprise at her Thane's skills. She had the rare ability to place three enchantments upon an item, although doing so was exceptionally draining and usually meant that she would spend several days bedridden as her magika stores recovered. Draining one's magika so thoroughly could be fatal for a Mer, even moreso for an Altmer and as a hybrid, Nadira's magika reserves were less than her full-blooded kin. Every item in the armor set that Lydia had been gifted bore strong enchantments, giving her the energy to continue on when normally her reserves would have failed her or turning away the effects of mage and dragonfire. Items crafted with skill and care, for a Nord warrior there was no greater expression of trust and affection. How she longed to prove worthy of the gesture made in guileless friendship and once scorned by her disdain.

Lydia could hear the animals going about their grazing and she moved out of the way as a small rabbit rushed past her to run freely through the small field that surrounded the manor. The rabbit's name was Valor and Lydia was certain that the Divines forgot to tell the small creature that it was indeed a rabbit and not a guard dog. Her Thane found the small rabbit as an abandoned runt early in their travels together and at the time Lydia had scoffed at "one rabbit caring for another", but Valor thrived under her care and in time became a cherished member of her Thane's household. Oddly enough the bunny was fond of her, often sneaking into her bedroll to snuggle or licking her fingertips as she slept. Lydia supposed it was an even trade considering that Hayate would likely "accidentally" trample her one day if she didn't earn the spirited mount's affection. Smiling softly at the antics of the small creature the Nord housecarl walked toward the bath house.

Opening the double doors to the decadent bathing chambers she was not surprised to find Illia occupying one of the large cedar tubs. Blue green eyes that had seen too much darkness in the world opened immediately and pinned her. The Nord noted the disappointment that shaded her gaze as she likely realized that it was not Rayya coming to bathe. The Imperial really was too obvious, how was it exactly that the Redguard had not yet noticed that her partner wanted far more than friendship and shared duty between them?

"Hello, Illia."

The Imperial hedge mage arched an eyebrow but she did nod in response. Lydia moved to the dressing chamber, removing her clothing and weapons and grasping two towels. Moving with the unabashed confidence instilled when among only one's same sex, Lydia padded softly to the small pool that functioned as a rinsing area. Bathing was a bonding ritual just as much as it was a practical application of cleanliness in Redguard culture, and Altmer scrubbed their skin before entering water to soak. As a child of both it was no small wonder that the Dragonborn had built such a luxurious place to clean and commune. The Nord scrubbed her skin using a rose and sandalwood soap that either Illia or her Thane had crafted. Illia said nothing; merely deigning to tilt her head back and resume her enjoyment of her bath. Clean, Lydia rose and entered one of the large cedar tubs that Illia had filled during her morning chores, purring softly at the warm bath salts and flower petals that littered the surface.

The two women soaked in silence for a few minutes before Illia rose from her tub and began to towel off. Lydia cracked an eye and looked at the Imperial with an impartial eye. The Imperial possessed voluminous dark hair that fell mid back and while her features could be described as slightly pinched, she was not an unattractive woman. Illia had been nearly gaunt when she met her, but the hedge mage found that her work with the Manor and Rayya's cooking agreed with her; the hard labor putting some definition upon her arms, while steady meals had all but destroyed her emaciated appearance.

That she didn't have an easy life was plain to see as burn marks, dagger scars and what may have been whip marks marred skin that was otherwise soft to the touch. Was that the reason that the hedge mage was always shrouded in robes from head to toe? Did she fear Rayya's revulsion if she could ever get the housecarl to realized the intent of her overtures? Yet a part of Lydia found herself wishing the Steward well in her pursuit; perhaps it was a kindred understanding or the fact that Illia was obviously head over heels and would be a true and faithful partner to Rayya. She wasn't sure when she'd grown to respect Rayya so, but she honestly wanted to see the older woman happy, and she believed that Illia would give her all to provide her that happiness. If being besotted also meant that Illia was less likely to hit her with an ice spike spell, all the better.

Neither woman said anything as Illia dressed and left the bath chamber to go eat her morning repast with her partner and Lydia tilted her head back and let herself relax. She had begun to doze softly when she heard a soft squeak and shuffling footsteps. "Oh I'm sorry Lydia, I didn't realize that you were here…" Lydia rose and turned to face her Thane before she could retreat. "Thane, wait! I'm sorry. I know I did my level best in the beginning to make you ashamed of your body, of your blood, and I have no words that can convey my remorse but I'm sorry is all that I have. I beg of you, please stay. If you would like I can leave."

The Dragonborn paused and gave a watery grin. While happy to see her Thane unmasked, Lydia's heart hurt at the red rimmed eyes that denoted the time she'd spent crying, both alone and within Serana's embrace. Her Thane moved to the changing chambers and Lydia allowed herself to settle back into the water. The Dragonborn moved to the scrub her form and Lydia opened her eyes to look upon the Manmeri that she would lay down her life for. Burnished golden copper skin pulled taut over a warrior's rippling musculature, yet full hips and breasts ripe and succulent softened her Thane's tall, graceful form.

The Dragonborn dumped a full bucket of water over her head, dousing silken raven curls and Lydia found her eyes following the rivulets as they made trails down her Thane's mostly unmarked skin. Yet it was the shudder of those stout shoulders that caused Lydia to rise carefully from the tub in alarm. Without hesitation, the Nord woman moved to her thane and gently removed the bucket from her unresisting grip and turned the taller female around, pulling her into her arms with ease. Her mind, frantic with worry, gave no thought to the press of their bodies as she petted her Thane's hair and shushed her softly. "Please, my Thane, tell me what troubles you so. How may I help you bear this burden?"

"This isn't your duty, Lydia."

The Nord tightened her grip on the older female, exasperated even as her heart shattered. "I would hope after all of this, I am at least considered your friend, Thane…Nadira." The Manmeri chuckled wetly and clung to her housecarl. They stood that way for a time, until the Dragonborn finally spoke, her voice soft and full of overwhelming despair.

"They are all gone Lydia…"

"Who, Thane?"

"My family, my home, my heart…trampled under the ambition of war and greed. I had to kill the female that would have been my wife, to ease her suffering. My mother and father died because I wasn't strong enough to defend them…my Aunt, by Auri-El, she was taken by the Thalmor when I was an adolescent and never heard from again. Yet the divines and the daedra would not see my suffering end, after I that I've lost, they would give me the power to topple the World Eater?! Where was that strength when those I loved needed me?"

Lydia's eyes widened as she realized that not just grief of loss haunted her Thane, but grief of continued existence as well. Here was a Manmeri, trapped in a land not of her birth and deemed its savior while those she loved died. To make matters worse, she had the means to aid a country that would spit upon her and tear itself apart in civil war. Why did she fight? Why should she? Lydia didn't know if she would have the will to care were she in her Thane's position. The Nord ran gentle hands down her Thane's muscular back, rocking them both gently, hoping to soothe her broken heart.

Making a split second decision, the Nord broke their embrace and lifted the slightly taller woman into her arms, moving over to the nearby tub. With great care she set her Thane to her feet but took her hand and entered the tub, tugging her hand enticingly. Confused but willing to humor her housecarl, the Dragonborn allowed herself to be led into the fragrant waters and she sat in front of Lydia, with her strong arms wrapped around her shuddering form. The Nord rubbed her arms and held her close and for a time neither said anything. Rayya had said she didn't have the right to shed tears with her Thane, but perhaps she could offer a broken heart in trade. One pain in payment to shoulder another. Lydia cleared her throat and prepared to lay her soul bare to her beloved Thane.

"My mother's name was Danae. She was to be Jarl of Whiterun. Skyrim claims to not care about who one marries, but when one is to become Jarl matters of succession take import over matters of the heart. My mother had found love in the arms of a woman, her commoner origins would have been tolerated had she been born a male and thus able to sire a child upon my mother. Yet that was not the case and both she and my mother were Dibellians and thus their love was true and only for one another. Such things do not sit well with some men however and a Thane of Whiterun hold attempted to petition my mother for her hand. She turned him down of course, but he would not accept rejection; he threatened to ruin my mother's lover, for he was a werewolf hunter and she was a werewolf. My mother, Thane, was an archer like no other. There was no target that she could not hit, but beyond that she was no warrior. So she did the only thing she could in such a situation; she broke her and her lover's heart. She married the man and abdicated her right to rule to her younger brother Balgruuf."

Lydia's voice had begun quietly, but it gained strength with the telling, baring her wounds to aid in the healing of her Thane's. "My mother hated that man until her dying day. Even after she bore a daughter, me, she hated him with everything that she was. Yet my mother was a gentle woman, she wouldn't let her dismal fate poison her love for her child. I daresay in a way I became her escape; she threw herself into being a doting mother, anything to keep her away from her husband. Yet she didn't try to set me against him, my father was a conniving bastard, but he did care for us both. It didn't make what he did right, or understandable, but at least it meant that he was not cruel to us in retaliation. I think…he thought in the foolish way that some men believe, that by virtue of him being male that she would come to love him…he was a fool and a thief. Still, the love my mother had for her beloved did not die, and perhaps that too was a cruelty of the Eight and One." Lydia allowed her heart to fill with regret on her mother's behalf, understanding a little better what it was to love one she could not have.

"I was six the first time I saw a werewolf. My father had gone on a hunting trip with friends, my mother never traveled with him unless it was to keep up appearances, and I suspect that the werewolf had been watching the manor for days. I didn't scream when she approached and I remember thinking that the wolf had the most beautiful shade of fur, a vivid blood red with purest silver at her temples and along her ears. The were reached out with sheathed hands and stroked my face and hair, like she knew me, like she was happy to see me. My mother had been looking for me to give me my evening bath and when she walked in they just stood there staring at one another. The were reached down and scoped me up and sat me upon her shoulder and then she walked to my mother and pulled her close. It was the first time in my life that I'd seen my mother cry Thane. She'd…bottled up everything for years, so that I would never know how she suffered. But in this moment as she wept …it was like she had a weight lifted from her shoulders."

The Nord was so engrossed in her own tale that she didn't realize that warm tears were splashing against her Thane's shoulders, yet her voice remained steady. "They sent me to my room and I'm certain that they reconciled, however there reunion was not to last. My father's hunting trip went poorly and in a foul mood he returned home early. He discovered them together. There was so much blood Thane…my father murdered my mother, I think in error as she took a blow meant for her beloved. I heard a roar and then screams that went on and on. A fire broke out and the were shattered my door and gathered me into her arms, when we made it outside a small pup darted forward afraid, and I realized why my mother's beloved had come. She had meant to claim her family and take us away …both myself and my mother. She placed me upon her shoulders along with the pup and told us both to hold on tight. She ran, and ran Thane until we reached the Underforge of the Companions. She died of her wounds there, leaving me with no one…well, no one that I wanted. The pup had lost her mother but all I could feel was anger... and grief. A part of me never forgave…any of them." She thought of the woman the pup had become, Aela had tried for years to keep alive a bond of sisterhood. Yet Lydia had rejected her viciously, forgetting that Aela too had lost her mother and twisting what should have been sisterly love into bitter rivalry. Perhaps she could try to begin again with the werewolf, no matter her annoyance at Aela's affection for her Thane, the younger woman didn't deserve her outright anger.

"Jarl Balgruuf took me in and raised me as a palace guard, a lark trapped in a gilded cage. I know what it is to look at the cruelty of the world and ask why Thane. I know what it is to long for death the way that you would a lover, yet you can't bring yourself to end it all. I will not disregard your grief and claim it temporary or lie to you and state that it will get better, I will not ask you to suffer for the sake of others, but know this Thane, so long as you make the decision to draw breath, you are not alone. I do not know if that is enough, but it is the truth Thane."

The floodgates opened and both Nord and Manmeri cried together, sharing a pain and confusion of the suffering that is existence and drawing support in each other. Reluctantly, Lydia allowed her Thane to exit the tub and she followed her after draining the tubs. The two dressed in silence and walked back to Lakeview manor together. They took their morning meal together, offering complements to Rayya as the Redguard finished her morning training and headed to the bath house. Lydia watched in dismay as her Thane went into the cellar after their meal but she suspected that her Thane was going to her art studio to put her memories to canvas. Lydia cleaned up the dining area alone and walked outside to sit in the field of flowers behind the manor. The Nord closed her eyes and tilted her head back to enjoy the warm sunlight, laughing as she felt a small silken face nuzzle against her wrist. "Hey Valor." The small rabbit didn't like to be held by any other than the Dragonborn, but the little creature adored being petted and having the area between his ears scratched. She indulged the bunny for a bit before he settled at her side and took a nap. Lydia wished she could follow the rabbit in repose, but her heart lay in waiting for her Thane.

The three servants of Lakeview Manor spent the rest of the day in an uneasy truce. Lydia assisted where she could and marveled at the sheer amount of work Rayya and Illia completed each day. The Dragonborn built a household of hard work and her retainers would follow in her example. Tending to the animals, tiling the fields, milling lumber for drying, mining the nearby iron and moonstone supply while Illia tended to the ore shipment lines , crafted potions and mended clothing. By nightfall Lydia was exhausted yet as Rayya and Illia laid out the evening meal, with a place for the Dragonborn and her guest, the Nord housecarl forced herself awake.

Serana and the Dragonborn exited the cellar together, speaking in hushed tones and they moved to their places at the table and began to eat. Illia and Rayya discussed the day's business with their Thane, while Serana and Lydia listened intently as the Lady of Lakeview managed her household. Before the meal was finished, the Dragonborn announced that she and Serana would be leaving in two days to look for the Ancestor's Glade. Illia and Rayya nodded their acknowledgement as Lydia struggled not to drop her fork in shock. Serana left for the evening, promising to return before dawn and the rest of the denizens of the manor cleaned up the dining area. Lydia followed her Thane to her room and shut the door quietly behind her.

"Take me with you, Thane."

Ocher eyes studied her intently before the Dragonborn moved to squeeze her shoulder strongly. "This will be better sorted between Serana and myself. We will be fine Lydia."

"While Vampires hunt you relentlessly? On top of everything else? You need more than the protection than the vampire can provide. Take me with you." Her Thane bristled and Lydia knew she was getting very close to a line that she could not cross without consequences. Yet she couldn't let her Thane's lovestruck faith in a Vampire leave her without trustworthy protection. "Lydia. I appreciate the concern, but Serana and I can deal with this. We aren't sure how long we will be gone. You may stay here if you wish or your time is yours." Knowing that the battle had been lost, Lydia nodded haltingly and left her Thane's bedchambers. She found herself once again upon the upper deck of the Manor, looking out into the sea of trees. She didn't look up when she heard someone rise from a chair nearby, her haste causing her to miss the person already occupying the deck.

"Will you not tell her?"

Lydia did not look back at the question. "Tell her what Rayya?"

The Redguard's tone was gentle as she came to a stop beside her fellow housecarl. "That you walk Mara's Way for her."

"It doesn't matter. She doesn't need to know. That is not the point of the Way."

"I know, but still a pilgrim of Mara must offer truth lest she taint the path."

"What would you have me do Rayya? Tell her that I've fallen in love with her? Watch her push me away further still because she no longer trusts my motives? She will never view my love as honest, you know that. Why would she? What would she want with a woman that not even a year ago derided her for her blood? Do you honestly believe that I do her any kindness by telling her the truth? No, I cannot have her and I will not have her look at me with suspicion and wariness. I will not steal her joy from her. I can't bear it, let Mara judge me as she will."

What will you do then?"

"I will do the only thing I can do, Rayya."

The Nord housecarl stared into the sea of trees beyond the manor, her grey eyes determined.

"I will walk the Way."

* * *

R. Niiyama

5/2018


End file.
